


Raðljóst (enough light to find your way by)

by Reinamy



Series: Hoppípolla [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hikaru no Go
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Drama, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Genderswap, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi, POV Alternating, Romance, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reinamy/pseuds/Reinamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.</i> - Seneca</p><p>Sequel to "Hoppípolla."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ripples

**Author's Note:**

> It was always my intention to split _Hoppípolla_ into three story arcs and post them in chronological order. However, due to having a hectic lifestyle I find that I have neither the time nor the will to work on Part 1. I feel terrible leaving everyone hanging, though, so I decided to start posting Part 2, which I managed to dig a sizeable dent into. Keep in mind that Part 2 will contain spoilers of events that will eventually happen in Part 1. To those who haven't read it yet, I suggest starting from there first, though it's not strictly necessary in order to understand what's going on.
> 
> What you need to know: Part 1 is the story of how Hikaru meets Sai and Harria and gets introduced to the game and world of Go. It focuses on the friendship between the three and Hikaru's budding feelings for Harria. Part 2 is about Hikaru and Harria's journey to become professional Go players in the wake of Sai's disappearance. It will also focus on the shifting relationship between them and the young Go professional Touya Akira.
> 
> Brief Timeline: Hikaru meets Sai, and then Harria, when he is 11 (2000). Sai disappears when Hikaru is 15 (2004). Part 2 takes place three months after that (2005). Touya Akira passed the pro-exam when he was 13 (2003).
> 
> Several new characters will be introduced in this chapter and we'll be seeing a lot of POV switching. To those unfamiliar with the HNG universe, I'm afraid it might get a bit confusing at first. Rest assured that chapters like this won't be common. After this, the POV will primarily be from Harria, Hikaru, Akira, and Seiji Ogata. If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

_January._

Shinoda Taichi, current master of the insei program, sighed as he leafed through the application forms of the two kids who had just turned up. The kids, accompanied by an adult woman, were seated in the waiting area which Shinoda had a perfect view of from his vantage point. Now, normally Shinoda would have simply taken their applications and sent them on their way so it could be processed, but he made an exception for the two for several reasons.

The first was that they were seriously cutting it close to the deadline, which was in four days. Such tardiness was inappropriate of people who wanted to enter the insei program, even if they were kids. Still, Shinoda couldn't say he was exactly surprised, which brought him to the second reason: he had a feeling the practical portion of the interview wasn't going to last very long.

He shot another discrete glance at the trio and sighed again.

The youngest of the applicants was a boy— _Shindou Hikaru_ , he read, after a glance at the application. He was fifteen years old, had been playing Go for four years, and simply put, looked like a delinquent. Shinoda couldn't help but feel disdain towards his flashy clothing and bleached bangs, which were pulled up at the top in a lose bunch. The kid was loud, lacked manners, and clearly wasn't taking the situation seriously if the manga his nose was buried in was anything to go by.

Shinoda glanced to the side and observed the other applicant. He exhaled slowly. It was difficult enough for women to advance to the main league, but she was a _foreigner_ , no less. _Potter Harria—_ Shinoda barely knew how to pronounce that. He only hoped she was proficient in the language since they didn't have many translators on hand. The girl was a few months older than Shindou and had come unaccompanied with a parent because she was apparently _emancipated._

Shinoda simply didn't know what to think about that.

While the girl hadn't spoken much she had at least appeared to be more respectful than Shindou. Unfortunately, she seemed to have similar fashion tastes as her friend—baggy khakis, a vivid shirt, painted nails, messy hair, and several earrings looped through her ears which had almost given Shinoda a heart attack when he'd first seen them.

The kids looked better suited to being pop singers, not professional Go players.

And then there was the fact that the two were basically attached at the hip. They weren't doing anything particularly indecent, but some would argue that showing any public display of affection was unprofessional, especially during an _interview_. The girl had her head on Shindou's shoulder and was tapping away on a phone that looked so technologically advanced Shinoda's head hurt just from looking at it.

Shinoda looked down at the sheaf of papers on his desk with another sigh. Kids those days never took anything seriously. If he had to take a guess, he figured only one of them had any real interest in Go (he'd personally bet on the girl) and the other had just come along to follow their love interest.

When Shinoda finishing making sure all the pesky little details were in order, he flipped to the back of the boy's packet where the true indicator lay. The game records were fastened on with a bright yellow paperclip (it figured), which Shinoda pulled free with a shake of his head. He scanned the three pages and his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

The first two were kifu printed from the Internet, which wasn't uncommon those days, and the third was done by hand. The username Shindou apparently played under was _blondie55_ —and Shinoda peered at the printed user-verification form to make sure it wasn't a random printout—and the name niggled at the back of his mind. It sounded familiar, though for the life of him he couldn't remember where he might have come across it. The only written kifu was a record of a game played against Potter, which _wasn't_ surprising…but the level of play definitely was.

Shinoda scrutinized the kifu with escalating astonishment and disbelief. If _this_ was actually Shindou's level of strength—which he'd have to confirm through a match against the boy—then…

Shinoda quickly flipped to the back of the girl's application and pulled the game records from its atrociously pink paperclip. He looked through them—like the boy's, hers also consisted of two Internet printouts and one written one—and swallowed. It appeared that she, too, was at an incredibly high level…

Shinoda glanced at her username, _hariko-p,_ and felt the same niggling sensation that insisted he'd overheard the name before. He filed the thought away to contemplate later and continued to study the third kifu. Her opponent had been Shindou, but she'd at least had the good sense to record a separate game. While he had to make sure that Shindou and Potter had legitimately played those games, he was absolutely certain that the two players were one in the same.

Their _joseki_ and playing styles were similar.

Shinoda cleared his throat and, with some wariness, called Shindou into the room. While the boy's mother looked fretfully between her son and Shinoda, he observed the boy closely, noticing that he didn't appear to be nervous in the slightest. The girl said something quietly, which made Shindou laugh, then pushed him to his feet with a hair ruffle. Shinoda wondered if he'd misinterpreted their relationship because the display seemed to be that of close siblings rather than anything romantic, but he pushed the thought away when he remembered that it was none of this business either way.

After a brief conversation about how long he'd been playing ("Four years,"), who he had been taught by ("Harria first, then a skilled amateur," whose name he didn't disclose), and his goals for the future ("To be a professional Go player, duh. Why else would I be here, mister?"), they slid into seiza. Shinoda set up the goban and passed him the go-ke full of black stones.

" _Okigo_?" Shindou said, somewhat disdainfully. Shinoda bit back a smile because that, at least, was something all young Go players had in common.

"Yes," Shinoda said. "I'm a 4-dan, so it wouldn't be fair to play against a potential insei."

"What about the komi?"

"That won't be necessary," Shinoda appeased the boy, then bowed his head and said, "Please."

With a disgruntled sigh Shindou returned the greeting, then placed the first stone on the upper right star.

* * *

 

 

**[2]**

"P-Potter Harria, if you would come this way, please?" Shinoda said in a daze, watching as the newest addition of the insei program practically skipped his way to the other side of the waiting room. The boy dipped his head and grinned, and Shinoda didn't have to be told what he'd conveyed. His acceptance into the program was obvious.

Potter ruffled the boy's hair again and sauntered over to him, hands tucked in her pockets and shoulders loose. She was the epitome of ease with a relaxed gait and a lazy smile, and if she was anywhere near the level Shindou was, he didn't have to guess why.

With a shaky breath Shinoda gestured her into the room and closed the door behind them. As he walked over to the goban, which had been cleared, his thoughts circulated back to the game he had just played. He knew it was unprofessional of him and that he really should be focusing on the current applicant, but he couldn't help it. To say that the match had been _astonishing_ would be the understatement of the century.

There was a reason that Shinoda had been given the position of insei master, and it wasn't just because he was an exemplar teacher. Shinoda was a _good_ player. He had been taught and sponsored by the current Honinbou title holder himself and would have been a 5-dan by then if his obligations to the insei didn't require so much of his time. Crushing Shinoda in a game was no small feat, even for higher _dans_ , and yet he'd been thoroughly defeated by an unranked fifteen year old who'd been taught by an _amateur_ and had only been playing for _four years_.

Shinoda knew many things factored into his humiliating defeat. For one thing, he'd underestimated Shindou (as he tended to do with all potential insei), and for another, he'd been handicapped by three stones. And yet he could not discount his loss as a fluke of bad luck. When Shinoda had realized just how skilled his opponent was, he'd promptly started to take the game seriously, rather than treat it like a demonstration to reveal the boy's potential. And he'd still lost. Horribly so.

Every attempt to gain territory or cut off black's advancement was intercepted before Shinoda could even put the plan into action, indicating an ability to read ahead that far surpassed his own. Shindou was a quick thinker and a strategic player and nothing got past him that he didn't allow.

And then there were the traps. Simple moves that made Shinoda frown and wonder if perhaps the boy wasn't as talented as he had thought, only to realize that they weren't the mistakes he'd thought them to be. Shinoda had felt like a man struggling to clear an area that was littered with explosives. By the time they'd reached yose he'd been a paranoid mess. He'd actually _feared_ playing a move just in case it was another trap he hadn't the foresight to see and ended up right where Shindou wanted him. Despite his cautiousness, he'd ended up there anyway.

Gods, but the boy was frightening. An insei had no business being that strong, and Shinoda didn't understand why he didn't just bypass the program altogether and take the pro exam, which he'd doubtlessly breeze through. The boy was easily at _least_ a 4-dan, and because of that Shinoda had been reluctant to accept him. Every so often prodigies would pass through the program—like the recent Touya Akira and Ochi Kousuke—and they tended to accomplish one of two things: either they inspired the other insei to grow stronger, as had been the case with Ochi, or they'd intimidate the insei and dampen their spirits, as Touya had inadvertently done.

Considering the level of Shindou's play, he'd bet a month's salary that it would be the latter.

With a shake of his head and a mental chastise not to lose focus again, he once again slid into seiza and initiated the oral interview. Potter's answers were similar to Shindou's, though she was far more polite. She had been playing for two years longer than Shindou, had the same teacher who she also did not name, and had similar goals: to play Go professionally and play against stronger players.

Not only was she surprisingly fluent in the language, but she did not pout the way the boy had when he realized they were playing _okigo_. She simply accepted it with a polite, if perhaps indifferent, nod, and Shinoda was relieved to know that despite her liberal appearance she was at least well-mannered. If only she could be convinced to remove all those earrings…

"Please," he muttered, forcing his thoughts back on track. He bowed, which she returned in kind and placed the first stone with a steady hand.

Ten minutes into the game, and Shinoda was sweating.

Twenty minutes into the game, and he was finding it difficult to breathe.

There were similarities between her and Shindou's style, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say a familiarity, but that was where it ended. Where Shindou was a calculative player who hid his hands behind careful feigns and intricate traps, Potter was like a boulder. What she lacked in stealth she made up for in sheer force, dominating over the board like the black stones were her own personal army. She killed off stones with a frightening dexterity and her expansion was a hostile takeover he could not prevent.

Shinoda learned early on that she seemed to have some aversion to sacrificing her own stones and had tried to use it to his advantage, yet somehow it never worked out. The moment he aimed to kill a sensitive cluster of stones she would just _do_ something—something unconventional and unpredictable that shouldn't have worked and yet somehow always did—and Shinoda's own play would backfire on him and he'd be forced to retreat.

_Relentless,_ was the word that came to mind when yet another cluster of stones fell to her. Terrifyingly relentless.

When he finally resigned he felt almost relieved. With those two words the heavy pressure in the room seemed to dissipate and Shinoda found that he could breathe properly again. He was astonished to notice that his heart rate had actually picked up and his shoulders had become so tense that they creaked when he tried to loosen them. To think that someone so young, and a _girl_ , no less, could replicate the kind of atmosphere one only felt when playing professionals the like of Touya Meijin and Ogata Juudan…frightening, indeed.

"Thank you for the game," she said, and for the first time since the start of the match she looked at him (that he was aware of—Shinoda hadn't been able to look up from the board to see) and he felt something tighten in his stomach.

_She has old eyes,_ he thought, watching her with surprise. How had he not noticed?

"You're an exceptional player," Shinoda found himself saying. It was a stark contrast to how reticent he'd been after his match with Shindou, but he supposed it had a lot to do with how baffled he'd been by the unexpected talent…and Shindou's own blatant arrogance, which made him less inclined to offer praise.

"Thank you, Shinoda-san," the girl said with the tiniest hint of a smile. "I've had a good teacher, and Hikaru is a great sparring partner."

_Sparring?_ he thought.

After a moment of quiet contemplation he finally asked, "Potter-san…why do you want to become insei?"

To her credit she didn't ask him to elaborate. "For the experience," she said with a small shrug. "Hikaru and I aren't familiar with the Go world outside of what we've read on the Internet. We also haven't had many matches outside of NetGo. We both decided it would be a good experience for us, as opposed to just throwing ourselves into the world of pro's," he noted that she had no doubt they would be, which he conceded to her, "and stumbling over the attention and _newness_ of everything. We decided being insei would help us transition better, and this way we'd have instructors and professionals nearby to teach us what we need to know."

Shinoda blinked at her in surprise, not quite expecting such an well-reasoned response. It made a lot of sense when put that way, to be sure. For all their remarkable talent they were still kids, and ones without any links to the professional Go world. In lieu of that, Shinoda couldn't, in good conscious, keep either of them from being insei. They had just as much a right to the advantages and aid the insei program provided as anyone.

"Well, congratulations are in order, then," he said slowly, smiling even while he prayed he hadn't made a huge mistake by allowing not one, but _two_ prodigies into such a mentally and emotionally stressful program with only seven months to the pro exams. "The Go Institute welcomes you to the official insei program. Are you familiar with the class system?"

"Yes."

"Good, good. Now, while the newest incomers are automatically placed at the bottom of D-class…I think it would be more prudent if we were to circumvent that a bit and place you at the bottom of C-class."

Potter nodded like she understood exactly what he had left unsaid but didn't seem particularly bothered by the precaution, so he continued. "Each class accommodates twelve students. Ranking tournaments are held monthly and they will determine what class you'll be in the following month. Every month, four of the top students from classes D through B will advance to the next class, while the lowest four will fall to the preceding one. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said again.

Shinoda inclined his head and gestured for her to stand. "Let us continue this conversation with Shindou-san, then. We'll also need to discuss the regulations, rules, and expectations of the insei as well as the schedule…"

After a half-hour of going over everything with the newcomers and the parent of the only minor in the group, Shinoda saw them to the exit with no small amount of relief. He desperately needed a strong cup of coffee, since he didn't think tea was going to cut it and he feared that if he took even a sip of alcohol he wouldn't stop. The day had been full of nothing but shocking revelations and unanswered questions and he wanted nothing more than to just take his lunch break and mull over everything that had happened.

Two young prodigies who'd been taught under the same amateur teacher…what were the odds? Shinoda expected a lot of activity in the Go world in the upcoming months with the appearance of those two. He could almost feel the ripples he'd created when he allowed them to become insei and had no doubt they'd be creating waves once they made themselves known, which likely wouldn't be as far off. Things had been stagnate as of late and everyone would be jumping at the chance to scrutinize the new flesh. Amano-san in particular would be jumping for joy.

"Bye, Shinoda-san!" the two said in unison, and waved at him.

Shinoda lifted his hand to return the gesture only to freeze when Potter's sleeve slid to her elbow and he caught sight of an intricate tattoo covering almost every inch of skin. His hand fell slowly to his side and he gaped at what he was seeing. When he looked up, Potter was staring straight at him, bright green eyes clearly laughing at his shock.

Shinoda closed his eyes and retreated into the sanctuary of the building, more than ready to get that coffee now.

He had just made an insei out of someone who had almost a dozen holes in her ears and an arm full of tattoos, and another who bleached his hair and dressed like a street punk. Shinoda ran his palm over his face and, for the nth time that day, sighed.

The Go world wasn't going to know what hit it.

* * *

 

 

**[3]**

_March._

It was impossible not to notice them.

Both of them stood out like sore thumbs mainly because neither of them behaved, or looked, the way Go players ought to. Well, to be fair, Waya Yoshitaka didn't fit the mold of the traditional player either, but he liked to think that he wasn't as _flashy_ as the two newcomers; one who had bleached hair and wore bright clothing and had a loud voice, and the other who had tattoos and piercings and an eccentric fashion sense.

Suffice to say, _everyone_ noticed them on the first day of the new term, especially when it was discovered that they'd skipped D-class and had been automatically placed in C-class. And everyone kept noticing when they shot right up into B-class the next month, claiming the top two slots in half a month. It was now March, and the newcomers were already in A-class and they were only climbing higher.

And the worst thing? The only time they ever lost was to each other, constantly going back on forth on who was first and second in class.

It was _unthinkable_ that the two had made it there so quickly. Even Ochi, stick-in-the-mud prodigy he might have been, had lost a few times. To think _two_ newcomers were that strong…

And then there were the rumors.

The rumors were probably what unsettled Waya the most. He hadn't paid much attention to them in the beginning, choosing to focus on his own studies and keeping his position as first in his class. And then he started hearing their names whispered _all the time_ , after ranking matches and before study sessions and always around the lounge. At one point Waya could swear that every single person at the Institute was talking about them, from the insei and teachers to the administrators and cleaning crew.

Potter Harria and Shindou Hikaru: the demon duo.

It had been _demon couple_ at first, but somehow no one was able to verify whether or not they were actually dating. Waya thought it was pretty obvious as one was never seen without the other, they rarely spoke with anyone outside their little sphere, and honestly, they were downright touchy-feely with one another, but apparently one girl from C-class had asked and Potter had denied it. Well, if the rumors were true, she'd actually said "Not currently, no," which made absolutely no sense.

But nothing quite did with the pair.

"What are you thinking about? You're getting wrinkles between your brows," Nase said, poking said wrinkles for emphasis.

Waya batted her away with a scowl. "Stop that!"

"Well?" she pressed.

"The demon duo," Waya admitted.

A spark of interest lit her eyes and she nodded in understanding. "Yeah, they would certainly explain the frown lines."

"Watcha talkin' 'bout?" Fuku, the only other person in class-A who seriously threatened Waya's place as first seat (until the newcomers had come barging in, anyway) asked with his usual exuberance. He plopped down beside Nase and stretched languidly.

"The demon duo," Nase said.

"You guys are talking about the demons?" Honda's voice cut in, and Waya swiveled his head to the side to see the eldest of the group approach. He crossed his legs and dropped next to Waya with the air of someone looking for good gossip.

"Geez," Waya complained, "one mention of the pair and suddenly everyone's flocking to talk about them."

"Duh," Nase said with a snort. "They aren't called the _demon duo_ for nothing, Waya."

"I'm still not convinced that they're _that_ good," Waya said stubbornly.

"Then you're delusional," Nase shot back. "I caught half of Potter's game against Uchida last week and that was enough to tell me how strong she is. Uchida is no pushover and yet he was sweating bullets. He practically fled when they finished recording their game."

Waya frowned at her when she couldn't even bother to hide her awe. It was no secret between them that Nase held a bit of a hero-worship for the other girl. It was rare that girls climbed the insei ladder so quickly, and most never managed to make it to the main league. It was why the women's Go league had been created in the first place.

Fortunately for Nase, and unfortunately for the rest of them, Potter's presence had sparked frightening determination in her. "If Potter can do it so can I," she'd told him a month ago, and now it was a rare sight indeed to see Nase without her nose buried in a Go-related book.

The startling thing was that it was actually _working._ Nase had always been in the bottom half of the first class, shifting between seats 15 and 12, but now she was seated at 9. He hadn't had a match against her yet but Honda had, and he'd _lost_ despite never having lost to her before.  
Without ever talking to her, Potter had lit a flame beneath Nase, and Waya shuddered to think of how much more determined she'd become if they actually met.

He already had enough threats to his seat with Fuku and Honda.

"You have a match against one of them today, don't you?" Honda asked Fuku, conveniently pulling the conversation in another direction before the two of them got into another argument. He and Nase had been arguing a lot those days, though Waya couldn't understand why. They usually got along pretty well.

"Yeah," Fuku said with a sigh of resignation. "I play Shindou at two," which was another hour away, "and then I'm up against Potter tomorrow. Just my luck I'd get them back-to-back."

"Oi! What's with that defeatist attitude?" Waya demanded. "Of course you're going to lose if you don't take it seriously!"

Fuku waved his hand airily. "Of course I'm going to take it seriously, Waya-baka, but that doesn't mean I'm going to _win_. Shindou's supposed to be an expert at reading ahead. I'm hoping if I play fast enough I can unnerve him enough that he won't get a chance to…"

Fuku and Honda started a heated conversation over whether it was better to play speed-Go against someone like Shindou or play more carefully, but Waya tuned them out. They argued about that all the time.

"Don't you play against Potter tomorrow, Waya?" Nase asked him, apparently ignoring their argument, as well.

"Yeah. First game. I play against Shindou two days after."

Nase nodded. "Tell me how it goes, alright? I'd love to watch but I'm playing against Homura and you know how _he_ is."

Unimaginably slow. Homura refused to play any move before his time was up even if his move had been figured out early on. He would wait until the very last second to play and no one could get him to play faster. Fuku _hated_ playing against the guy with a passion and Waya was often delegated to being his sounding-board after they played.

"Good luck," Waya said with a wince. It wasn't that Homura was a bad player…he was just boring as hell.

"Same to you," Nase said, lifting herself to her feet with a yawn. "I wasn't joking when I said Uchida was sweating currents. I thought he was going to die of dehydration before the game was over."

Before Waya could shoot off a retort Nase waved to him lazily and crossed the room to sit next to Yoshiku Mamori. No doubt to squeal over the Potter girl, as all the girls tended to.

Waya scoffed and looked away. There was nothing at all frightening about Potter. She was a _foreigner_ for god's sake. Had none of them any national pride?

"Hey Waya, we're heading out to get something to eat. Do you want to come?" Honda asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," he agreed, grabbing the proffered hand and allowing the boy to pull him to his feet. "What are you guys going to get? Sushi?"

Fuku snorted. "No way. We had sushi last time. I was thinking dumplings from that place near the bus panel…"

Waya shrugged and followed after the two, not really paying attention when they broke out into another argument. His mind was firmly planted on the newcomers and whether they really were as strong as everyone said they were.

Well, Waya would be playing against one of them tomorrow, so he supposed he would see then.

* * *

 

 

**[4]**

Ringing. That was the sound that flooded Waya's ears as he stared at the intricate patterns on the goban. There were several insei milling about, peering over his shoulder to get a better look at the game. Distantly Waya realized that they were chattering excitedly, no doubt awed by the _massacre_ that had taken place, but he couldn't bring himself to feel annoyed with them for their inconsiderate looming. Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but stunned disbelief.

He'd…lost. And he hadn't even made it to yose.

With a heavy swallow, Waya tore his eyes from the board and leveled a gaze at his opponent, who was studying him intently, as if trying to puzzle something out. The idea was laughable—if there was anyone here who needed to be figured out it sure as hell wasn't him.

"Why are you here?" he blurted out, not caring if he sounded particularly rude. Someone at her level had no _right_ to be here, where everyone was trying so hard to get strong and tenaciousness was such a fickle thing. "You…why didn't you just take the pro exam and be done with it?"

Waya was only vaguely aware of how quiet the room had become. His focus was entirely on the girl, the _demon_ , across from him.

"I suppose," she started, and Waya twitched in surprise at how soft her voice was. It was unfitting of someone who played Go like _that_. "It was because it wouldn't have been fair, among other things."

"And _this_ is?" he asked, gesturing towards the utter annihilation on the board. That hadn't been a game between two insei. Hell, it hadn't even been a game between an insei and a lower dan. Waya hadn't been thrashed so thoroughly since Morishita-sensei had accused him of being arrogant and tried to bring him down several pegs. And how frightening was that, that Potter reminded Waya of a 7-dan?

Potter peered at him thoughtfully for several seconds then said, "Comparatively. How much better would it have been if Hikaru and I suddenly appeared to take the exam? Could you honestly say you would have preferred us to make an appearance _then_?"

Waya thought about it and blanched. She was right. Not knowing the extent of the competition would have been worse. And for them both to be outsiders, no less…she was right.

The girl across from him sighed and ran a hand through her hair, mussing it further. Waya's eyes flickered to the oddly-shaped tattoos that appeared when her sleeve slipped, then looked up when she said, "Don't think our reasons were entirely altruistic, Waya-san. That was only one of them, but it's a good one to think about, regardless." She paused, cocked her head, and added passively, "I guess the real question is whether or not you guys are brave enough to rise the challenge, or are you such cowards that you quit before the game has even begun?"

She narrowed her eyes and Waya felt himself freeze in the gravity of her hard stare. "So which one are you?"

"You ready, Harria?" someone's voice suddenly cut in, breaking her spell. Waya wilted when her head turned sideways, releasing him from her gaze.  
Gods, but she was intense.

"Yeah, Hikaru," she called out, standing. "I've just gotta record the game. Give me a sec."

She left without a backwards glance, not even acknowledging all the people who were staring after her. Waya watched as she went up to the counter, stamped the game log, grabbed her shoes from the cubby, and sauntered towards the exit. Her friend, Shindou, slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her out of the door. Waya caught a hint of a smile curling at the edge of her mouth before she disappeared, taking the heavy atmosphere in the room with her.

"She's so cool," he heard Nase breathe behind him.

Despite himself, Waya couldn't help but agree.

"So," Nase said, dropping down next to him, "which one are you?"

"Huh?" Waya turned to her.

She shot him a penetrative look. "Are you brave, or are you a coward?"

Waya's eyes widened at the question, then he glanced down at the game with a clenched jaw. That was certainly the question, wasn't it? Either he'd take the experience the newcomers gave him and use it to get stronger, or he'd let them intimidate him into giving up.

In the end, Waya didn't even have to think about it.

He looked at Nase, who was always so much cleverer than she let on, and glared at her, _daring_ her to call him a coward again.

The girl stared at him for a long moment, then smiled. "Good," she said mildly, returning her attention to the board. "I fully intend to take the first seat next month and I'd hate for you to make it easy for me."

"Don't count on it," Waya said.

He'd worked his ass off to get first seat, and he'd be damned if he gave it up without a fight. If Fuku, Honda, Nase, or the newcomers wanted it…then they'd better be prepared to fight him until his last stone.

Yoshitaka Waya was many things, but a coward wasn't one of them.

* * *

 

 

**[5]**

With no small amount of reluctance, Ogata Seiji stepped out of the warmth of his car and into the frigid March weather. It was his rare day off, and rather than spend it relaxing somewhere warm (preferably in his beau-of-the-week's bed) he was forced to come to the Go Institute's Tokyo Branch to hand deliver his new address and telephone number. Not for the first time Seiji wished that the Go Institute were a bit more technologically inclined. It would make it easier for everyone, except perhaps the old coots who wouldn't know a cellphone from a GPS (one particular senile coot with a striking resemblance to a primate came to mind).

Seiji wrapped his scarf more firmly around his neck, rounded the hood of his car, and stepped onto the curb. It was fortunate that he'd been able to find an empty spot in front of the building so closing the distance was relatively quick. With a sigh of relief, he pulled the door open and stepped into the heated foyer just as two kids bypassed him.

Seiji glanced at the two with curiosity seeing as neither looked the type to be interested in a game like a Go, and inadvertently locked gazes with the girl.  
He froze with one hand pressed against the glass panel as her gaze sharpened on him with an intensity that would put Touya Meijin's stare to shame. When she finally looked away Seiji remembered to breathe, and he shuddered as he stepped past the threshold—though whether it was the from the cold that clung to his skin or the weight of her gaze, he didn't know.

His curiosity expertly reigned, he watched them walk away until the building obscured his view and they fell out of sight. Seiji inhaled a large puff of smoke, exhaled it from his nose, and continued his trek to the reception desk, which was manned by Shinoda, to his relief. Shinoda was a sight more tolerable than many of the sycophants who occasionally took over.

"Ah, Ogata-Juudan," the old man said, sounding pleased. "Ah, that's right, you came to update your billing address and phone number, if I recall correctly."

"Shinoda-san," Seiji greeted, stepping up to the desk and tapping his fingers against the polished surface as Shinoda ruffled through a file cabinet and produced the necessary forms. He slid them towards him and Seiji grabbed a pen from a selection of many and jotted down the required information.  
After a moment he returned form to Shinoda, who scanned it quickly and slid it in a cubby behind the desk with a nod.

"Good, good. Thank you for the assistance, Ogata-san, and I apologize that you had to come all this way for such a simple matter."

"It's fine," Seiji lied.

Shinoda smiled knowingly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Seiji opened his mouth to decline the offer but stopped short when he remembered the two kids—though perhaps _teenager_ would be more a more appropriate description—he had bumped into earlier, and switched tactics.

"Yes, actually. I saw two teenagers leaving through the front a short while ago and I wonder if you'd be able to tell me who they were."

Shinoda blinked in surprise, but to his credit he only said, "If you could describe them, Ogata-san?"

Seiji recounted what he could. "The boy had bleached hair and the girl had several piercings in her ears…" he trailed off when he saw Shinoda nod.

"Ah, you're referring to the _demon duo_ ," he said with a smirk ghosting the corners of his mouth.

The cigarette in Seiji's mouth dipped low. "Demon duo?"

"Or at least that's what the other insei refer to them as."

That was surprising. "So they're insei, then?"

Shinoda's eyes took on an amused glint. "I know. Neither of them look the type, do they? Oh, but don't let that fool you. They're both exceptionally good. They came in at the beginning of the winter term and they're already in A-class."

Ogata's eyebrows shot up. "That's impossible. It's only March. Even if they rose a class each month—"

"They skipped D-class altogether," Shinoda cut in, which was uncharacteristic of him and a glaring indicator of how passionate the subject made him, which was odd in itself. Shinoda was one of the most strictly professional men Ogata knew and rarely got carried away with anything. "I would have sent them straight to A-class, but there are regulations, as you well know."

"That good?"

Shinoda peered at him over the rim of his glasses and said quietly, "Good? I suppose they must be, considering I was defeated in both their evaluation matches."

Ogata frowned and opened his mouth, but Shinoda shot the excuse down before it could be made. "Even if it had been an equal game I would have still struggled against them. Honestly, I'm not all that confident I would have won."

"But you're a 4-dan," Ogata uttered after a moment's pause, not quite ready to believe what Shinoda was telling him even if the man was hardly prone to embellishment.

"Indeed I am," the insei master said without any of the mortification most in his position would have leaked. That, more than anything, revealed the man's level of awe.

"I see," Seiji muttered, expelling another puff of smoke. "What are their names? Where did they come from? How long have they been playing? Who is their teacher? Do they have a sponsor? Will they be participating in the Young Lion's Tournament? And…how do you think they would fare against Touya Akira?"

The man took his rapid questions with more aplomb than Seiji would have if their positions had been reversed. He adjusted his glasses and answered with an indulgent smile that Seiji hadn't seen directed his way in years, "Shindou Hikaru and Potter Hikaru—"

"She really is a foreigner, then," Seiji interrupted. He'd only seen a glimpse of the girl and hadn't been sure.

"Yes," Shinoda nodded, ignoring his rudeness. "And quite fluent in Japanese, as well. I dare say she's more eloquent than Shindou-kun, and he's a native. Which ties in to your next question—Shindou-san is, of course, a national, however Potter-san hailed from England before she moved here. Apparently Potter-san has been playing for six years and Shindou-san for four—"

"Impossible," Seiji interrupted him again. "Even six years wouldn't be enough to master the game with enough proficiency to beat a 4-dan, handicap or no."

"I thought so too, at first, but neither of them come across as the type who'd lie. They're certainly secretive about certain subjects, but otherwise they're blunt to a rather rude extent."

Seiji frowned. It simply couldn't have been possible. Still, there more important things to find out, such as…

"They don't have a sponsor, as for a teacher…well, that's the funny thing, apparently he was a skilled amateur." Shinoda saw Seiji's dubious expression and chuckled, "They wouldn't divulge his name, and as far as I'm aware none of the insei have been able to wheedle it out of them either."

"Why the secrecy?" Seiji asked, peeved.

"I can't say for sure, however, I did notice that whenever they referred to him it was always in past tense. So either he's no longer their teacher or…"

_Passed on,_ he didn't say. Seiji heard it anyway.

Seiji removed his glasses and rubbed the skin between his eyes, trying to stave off the impending headache before it started. "That still doesn't explain why they're so secretive about their teacher's identity."

Shinoda shrugged. "Perhaps not, but I could hardly pry it out of them."

_You should have tried anyway,_ Seiji thought unkindly.

"And the tournament?"

"Ah, yes. I have little doubt that they'd qualify before the tournament administrators configure match arrangements. In fact, Potter-san defeated the top student in the first class just a few hours ago, and, well, Shindou-san is just as good."

"…And Touya Akira?"

Shinoda's eyes gleamed with something Seiji couldn't name, but made him apprehensive regardless. "You know I can't predict such a thing, Ogata-san," he rebuked mildly, "however, I will say this: Touya Akira might finally have the rivals he's been without."

"You aren't ser—no, you are," Seiji muttered, seeing the man's expression for what it was. There was excitement there, no doubt at the prospect of new talent in their relatively small world, but there was also steadfast confidence in his intuition. Potter and Shindou were, if nothing else, going to give Akira a reason to finally feel challenged, and he was _sure_ of it.

"I see," Seiji said, mind whirring. What was the likelihood of _two_ prodigies, and one who was female, at that, entering the Go world at the same time? Prodigies who were Touya Akira's age and might just be able to rival him. Prodigies who literally came out of nowhere and refused to disclose who their teacher was.

They were, frankly, a mystery, and Seiji had never been patient with those.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about them?"

Shinoda hummed. "Well, I could describe to you their playing styles, though I suppose you'd prefer to see kifu of some of their matches," he cocked a questioning brow at Seiji, and continued briskly when the other man nodded, "but aside from that…would you care to know their NetGo usernames, Ogata-san?"

The man looked positively mischievous. Ashiwara was going to die of shock when Seiji relayed the entire conversation to him later.

"Yes," Seiji said.

" _Blondie55_ and _Hariko-p_ ," Shinoda reported, peering intently at him.

Seiji went still. He _knew_ those names. _Blondie55_ and _Hariko-p_ had both appeared on the Internet four years ago, and everyone had been scrambling to find out who they were since. Oh, they hadn't started out particularly strong, which their kifu records showed, but no one had been blind to how _quickly_ they'd grown in strength.

Several users had made attempts to find out who they were (even by illegal means) but nothing had ever turned up. Both users were frustratingly tightlipped about who they were, where they were from, whether or not they were pro's, and so on. Since their debut, they had never interacted with anyone and the only friends they'd added to their contact list was each other…

And _SAI_. The mysterious _SAI_ who appeared around the same time, who was just as infuriatingly private, and who had started out at the level of a _higher dan_ with an old joseki that heavily resembled Shuusaku Honinbou and _only got stronger._ The same _SAI_ Seiji had played against a year ago and had been utterly defeated by. The same _SAI_ who had disappeared from the face of the Internet three months ago and had left every NetGo user (and otherwise) paranoid by his absence. Not a day went by where the public forums on WorldIGoNet weren't crowded with people wondering where _SAI_ had gone and when he would return.

There had to be a connection between the three. Why else would those two be the only people who _SAI_ ever friended or interacted with? Seiji's heart slammed against his ribcage at the thought of _finally_ knowing who _SAI_ was. And the key had been standing a few scant inches away from him only a few minutes ago.

Seiji hissed between his teeth and tapped his cigarette against the ceramic ashtray on the desk. The cinders flittered down as he stubbed the end into the bottom, extinguishing the red glow.

"I ask that you do not interrogate my insei while they are here, Ogata-san," Shinoda said dryly, knowing Seiji's obsession with _SAI_ and likely having figured out the connection himself. "Or stalk them, for that matter. The Young Lion's Tournament is only a few weeks away. You can speak with them then."  
Seiji shot a narrowed glance at the man while he pulled out a box of cigarettes from his coat pocket. "Fine," he said shortly, slipping a slender stick between his fingers and tucking the rest away. "Thank you for time, Shinoda-san. I appreciate it."

"Yes, yes. Take care, Ogata-san."

Seiji nodded once and slid the fag between his lips as he turned on his heel and walked away. Once lit, he returned the lighter to his pocket and inhaled a large whiff of desperately needed nicotine. No matter how many things in life changed, this, at least, would always remain the same.

And Seiji had a feeling that a lot of things were about to change within the Go world. He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to it or not.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who don't know/remember, Waya is _Zelda_ , the internet opponent Hikaru played against in chapter 1x04, "Trials." No, neither of them realize it at this point. 
> 
> **TERMS:**   
> **dan** \- refers to pro ranks, 1-dan being the lowest and 9-dan being the highest  
>  **Insei** \- Go apprentice at an official program  
>  **Kifu** \- game records  
>  **Goban** \- Go board   
> **Go-ke** \- bowl that holds Go stones  
>  **Seiza** \- traditional sitting position/posture  
>  **Okigo** \- handicap Go where one player sets down a set number of stones pre-game  
>  **Komi** \- compensation points, since black has the advantage of going first  
>  **Yose** \- end game  
>  **Joseki** \- studied sequences/patterns of moves  
>  **Honinbou/Juudan/Meijin/Ouza** \- professional Go titles, won via tournaments.


	2. Change

**[1]**

 

_March._

"I can't believe I lost again," Hikaru said, staring at the goban as if it had greatly betrayed him. "Only by one moku, but still..."

"This is the third time in a row, if I remember correctly," Harria commented, and Hikaru didn't have to look at her to know that she was smirking at him. "You're falling behind, Karu-chan."

"Don't call me that," he snapped, lifting his head to glower at her. Movement beyond her shoulder caught his attention and it was then that he noticed several insei advancing. He found himself peering at them through his bangs with grudging curiosity.

Since rising to A-class, neither he nor Harria had been approached by any of their classmates, which was as frustrating as it was relieving; on the one hand, being interrogated by a bunch of nosy busybodies was _annoying_ , but on the other hand, Hikaru didn't particularly enjoy feeling like some sort of leper either.

Whether or not he made friends was irrelevant; Hikaru had Harria and didn't really _need_ the company of anyone else. That didn't mean he wanted to be the class pariah, or that he liked being at the center of all that negative attention—which was exactly what it felt like. Even the few who seemed friendly to their faces would do a complete one-eighty the moment their backs were turned, and Hikaru had long since given up on trying to be friendly.

The boy who was leading the group, Waya-something or other (decent-ish player; red, gravity-defying hair; didn't dress like a total snob), came to a halt a few feet away and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as if he couldn't quite bring himself to come any closer.

Hikaru wanted to scowl at that. Seriously, what was up with everyone tiptoeing around them? What did they actually think was going to happen if they got too close?

He thought about the nickname he and Harria had been dubbed— _the demon duo_ or something stupid like that—and his scowl deepened. _No wonder most of them suck so badly_ , he thought unkindly. They were all too busy gossiping behind people's backs to do anything productive.

"Can we help you?" Hikaru snapped after a long moment of just being _stared at_. It was enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

"Um, well, you see—"

"We just wanted to talk," the girl—Nase, he thought her name was—interrupted boldly, elbowing the stammering redhead aside, for which Hikaru was grateful. If the kind of attention they received in the insei program was this bad, Hikaru shuddered to think of how they'd be treated when they finally became pro's. There was a reason that Hikaru hadn't pursued a professional career earlier and it had very little to do with Sai, after all.

Even after six months his chest still _ached_ when he thought about the ghost. Hikaru tried not to think about him too often for that reason alone, but often found that even the tiniest, most trivial of things swiveled his thoughts in that direction and it _sucked._  Hikaru wondered how long it would take for the pain to fade to something that was bearable. At the rate he was going, it likely wouldn't be any time soon.

And what a miserable thought that was.

"I'm Nase Asumi," the girl with the LSU shirt introduced herself, pulling Hikaru from his thoughts and confirming his earlier guess. "And this is Waya Yoshitaka, Fukui Yuta, and Honda Toshinori. Do you mind if we sit?"

"Not at all," Harria cut in before Hikaru could tell them that he actually did mind. He shot her a withering glance which she pointedly ignored in favor of waving the other insei closer. "I'm Potter Harria and the grump over there is Shindou Hikaru."

The four insei gathered around them—Waya and Honda with more hesitance than the other two. No one said anything for a long time after they were seated, and Shindou had half a mind to demand what their purpose of coming over was if they were just going to sit there like a bunch of plotted plants, when Nase finally spoke.

"So. Potter-san—"

"There's no need to be so formal," Harria interrupted. "Call me Harria. Don't worry, I don't bite." Her grin was all teeth, adding a layer of dishonesty to her words, and Hikaru had to clamp his lips together to keep his laughter at bay.

(Not for the first time, Hikaru wondered if there was something wrong with him for being attracted to such a strange girl.)

"…Right," Nase said, staring at her with something bordering on wonder. "Harria-san, then. Um, I, well, that is to say, _we_ …"

"We wanted to know if you'd be interested in playing Go with us outside of ranking matches," Fukui helpfully cut in.

Hikaru sat up straighter, surprised. That was certainly a first. So far, all the insei they'd had matches against (and even some they hadn't) seemed ferociously adverse to playing against either of them when they didn't have to. Hikaru's opinion of the four spiked up a few notches at their determination. Fighting against stronger players and losing often was the only real way to improve, after all. It was a lesson Sai had drilled into both their heads, by his words and his actions.

Hikaru ignored the familiar pang in his chest and glanced at Harria, curious to know what she'd say. Hikaru didn't care one way or another—it wasn't as if the insei were strong enough to challenge him, and he had the Internet (and Harria) at his disposal whenever he wanted to face someone challenging—so it was entirely up to her. Though, knowing her, she'd probably agree. She was a nicer person than Hikaru was.

He wasn't in the least bit surprised when she said, "Sure."

What _was_ surprising was the look on the insei's faces, as if they hadn't expected them to agree.

"You're surprised," Harria said.

It was the tallest boy, Honda, who spoke up. "Players at your level don't often want to spare time to play against players at our, well, levels." He scratched his nose sheepishly.

To the right of him, Waya made a strangled sound, as if deeply offended by the comment but unable to defend himself by disagreeing.

"Well. That's certainly stupid of them," Harria said, tucking a tuft of black hair behind her ear. "Regardless the skill level of your opponent, one can always learn something from playing against them—even if it's only humility, open-mindedness, and patience, which can often be forgotten when a person's gaze is stuck facing forward and they become blind to the people around them. That's why certain players become stagnant over time; they're so busy looking ahead and trying to get to the next level that they lose sight of why they wanted to get strong in the first place."

"It also makes them much easier to overwhelm," Hikaru found himself adding. He ignored the urge to snap his mouth shut when five gazes swiveled in his direction and forced himself to continue, "Since they're too arrogant to ever look behind them and won't see what's coming until it's too late." He glanced at Harria and saw that she was staring back at him just as intently. "That won't happen to us."

"No, it won't." The words were said mildly, but there was an undercurrent of fierceness beneath them that sent a shiver down Hikaru's spine. It never failed to amaze him that after so many centuries of being alive she could still feel passionate about things—things like _Go,_ which, when compared to the endless excitement she'd had in other worlds, seemed pitifully insignificant in comparison.

"That's—" Nase suddenly breathed, and Hikaru almost snorted at the _stars_ that were glittering in her eyes as she gazed at Harria. "That's such an _amazing_ philosophy, Harria-chan. You're so _wise_."

Hikaru doubted he was the only who noticed the change in suffix, or the way Nase had scooted closer as if her wisdom were airborne particles she could inhale into her system through proximity alone.

Harria only chuckled good naturedly. "I'm the furthest thing from wise, I assure you, though the compliment is appreciated."

"And so _modest_ ," Nase said.

Hikaru lost the battle and snorted, though he quickly turned his head and tried to cover it up as a cough. He caught Waya's gaze when he looked up and they both rolled their eyes at the display.

Perhaps this group of insei wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Do the two of you have the same teacher?" Honda suddenly asked, tearing his gaze away from his female friend and settling it on Hikaru. "We've all been wondering. I'm assuming it's an upper-dan?"

And just like that, Hikaru's mood plummeted.

He grit his teeth and abruptly stood up, no longer in the mood to sit there and accommodate them. He didn't understand why everyone kept _asking_ them that. Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone?

Hikaru knew it wasn't exactly their fault. They didn't _know_ their teacher had essentially died, and admittedly it was a rather innocent question to ask. That didn't make having it constantly brought up any less painful, or make it any easier to say that he was dead (or as good as).

"I'll be in the lounge, Harria. Don't take too long or we're gonna be late." The second the words were out he walked away, not waiting to hear a reply. He just wanted to get out of that stupid room with those stupid people and the painful memories they wrought.

He was, perhaps, being a coward by running away, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been thinking of Sai all day despite his efforts to do the opposite, and he just couldn't do it anymore. Hikaru just wanted to go home, eat his mother's cooking, and go to sleep. It had been a trying day, and he was looking forward to it coming to an end.

* * *

 

 

**[2]**

_He's still not coping well_ , Harria thought, watching the boy disappear from the room. She sighed inwardly and glanced down at the goban, not quite seeing the game displayed there.

She supposed it was to be expected, all things considered. It had only been six months since Sai had departed, and unlike Harria, he had been Hikaru's first real loss. She wondered if she'd been so devastated by her first loss, back when she was human and hadn't yet started to think of other people as temporary, fleeting things. It had been so long ago she could barely remember it.

When she looked up again the insei were squirming anxiously, glancing between her and the exit Hikaru had just disappeared through, and not for the first time it struck her _old_ she was. She couldn't imagine feeling so unsettled by such a little thing, not anymore.

"Is he…?" Nase trailed off, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"I'm sorry," Honda said, though he didn't look like he even knew what he was apologizing for. "I didn't mean to upset him."

"But why did he go off like that?" Waya asked, eyes glued to the exit.

Harria glanced between the four and sighed again. She supposed it was as good a time as ever to tell them, especially if they were going to stick around for a while, which she thought they might. At least Hikaru wouldn't be around to hear it.

"Our teacher died a few months ago," she said after a moment. Harria could not mourn him the way Hikaru did—no, she had been alive too long and had lost too many to allow herself to feel so devastated by a single loss—but that didn't mean she didn't feel an echo of grief whenever she thought of the ghost, who'd understood the misery of existence the way most couldn't hope to and still hadn't lost himself to the dolor of time.

More than his love for Go, more than his innate kindness, and more than this infectious vitality—that is what Harria missed about Sai the most.

Kinship born of mutual circumstances.

"We were very close to him, though Hikaru especially. He's not ready to talk about him just yet," she finished, offering a small smile to help ease some of the horror that was directed at her.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean—" Honda stuttered, pale with guilt.

"You didn't know," Harria assured him gently. "Don't worry yourself about it."

"Still…" Honda muttered.

"Yeah," Nase said, looking dejected. "Sorry for your loss."

The other three repeated the sentiment, and after acknowledging it, Harria resolutely changed the subject. "Would you like to meet up this week?" she asked as she deftly separated the stones on the board into piles of black and white, being careful not to scratch the surface beneath them.

The insei looked at her in confusion before it clicked.

"Oh!" Fukui exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "That's right, you said you wouldn't mind playing us during off-hours."

"You sure Shindou-san is still up to it, though?" Honda asked, uncertainly.

Harria nodded and slid the stones into their respective go-ke. "Don't worry about it. When and where?"

"Would Wednesday evening be alright?" Waya asked after they'd talked amongst themselves for a while. "We're not sure where, though, since there'll be six of us. Uh…there's this Go salon I often pass near the station that looks like it might be okay, but I'm not sure about the prices…"

"Tell you what, why don't one of you email me when you've figured it out?" Harria suggested, rising to her feet. The insei followed suit.

"Sure," Nase was quick to whip out her cellphone. "What's your email address?"

" _Hariko-dash-p-at-gonet-dot-com_ ," Harria said with a smile, then started the count.

At eight seconds, Waya swiveled his head in her direction, and Harria could have laughed at how comical he looked as he gaped. "What! _H-Hariko-p?_ You mean you're—"

"Sorry, Waya-kun, but I've really got to go now. Talk to you guys later! Bye!"

With a jaunty wave, Harria skipped off to the desk to record her win, then left the room, ignoring the spluttering behind her. _Ah, humans,_ she thought with amusement, _so easy to rile._

She found Hikaru waiting exactly where he said he'd be, tucked in a corner seat in the lounge with his head propped up on his knee. She couldn't tell if he was contemplating something or brooding, but supposed it didn't matter when he caught sight of her entering the room and perked up. Harria was relieved to see that the hard edges of his face had smoothed into something less severe and almost calm.

She watched as Hikaru's eyes (green like hers, only pale, more barley than moss and not darkened with shadows like hers were) lit up when she smiled and beckoned him over. Harria didn't think she'd ever get over how _happy_ she could make him, as if, just by being around her, his day had become several degrees better.

It warmed her from the inside out, and she figured _that_ was the reason why she allowed this boy, this _child,_ the liberties she did. Allowed him to get close when others were met with walls, allowed him know things that rarely left the chambers of her mind, allowed him access to the being behind the mask she so artfully wore, and in the process, trusting him not to disappoint her, not to betray her.

And all because he smiled at her like a child discovering that magic was real.

"You were taking so long I thought you decided to play someone," he said, slipping his hands into hers. His smile broadened when she entwined their fingers together and she could stop the widening of her own smile, or the treacherous quickening of her pulse, no more than she could restrain a storm. "I was going to come get you, but, well…" he trailed off, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"I know," she told him, squeezing his hand once before pulling him out of the lounge and into the coat room. "I explained it to them. They won't ask about it again." Though if the sheer shock on Waya Yoshitaka's face was any indication, he'd likely discover the connection between them and Sai soon, if he hadn't already. The poor boy would be itching to ask but wouldn't be able to for fear of being inconsiderate. The thought brought a sly smile to her face. She couldn't wait for Wednesday. Which, speaking of.

"By the way, I told them that we could all meet up on Wednesday evening. Hope you don't mind," she said carelessly.

The weariness in Hikaru's eyes was replaced by surprise, then disgruntlement. "What! Of course I mind! Wednesday is—"

"You can set that anime of yours to record and watch it later," she cut in dryly.

Hikaru frowned. "It's not the same."

"Of course it isn't, Karu-chan," she mockingly soothed.

His eyes flashed. "I _guess_ I could watch it on Friday night, right _Alien-chan?_ "

Harria's grin faded. The look she favored him with was all threat. "One, there's no way in hell I'm missing my drama for your stupid anime. And two, call me alien-chan and I'll _end_ you."

She _hated_ the nickname (true as it might have been), but Hikaru persisted in using it. Mark her words, one of those days she was going to retaliate in the extreme and Hikaru would be _extremely_ sorry.

They pulled on their outerwear and quickly left the Go Institute, waving to Shinoda-san as they went. The moment they stepped past the glass doors they were hit with frigid winds that effortlessly sank past the protection of their coats and settled uncomfortably onto their skin.

Harria didn't waste time in casting a wandless, nonverbal heating charm over the two of them (a fortunate consequence of having her wand snapped centuries ago and spending forty years trapped in a universe with an atmosphere that made speaking impossible). Hikaru melted against her side in relief and caught her hand once again. Their fingers tangled, and they started their trek towards home.

* * *

 

 

**[3]**

Shindou Mitsuko paused as she set the third plate on the dining table without even thinking about it. It was instinctive now—just as it was instinctive for her to prepare food for three and disregard the third set of footsteps she was accustomed to hearing within her home.

A stranger would possibly assume that the third plate, the third serving, the third set of footsteps, was her husband's, but anyone close to her knew the truth. Shindou Heiharu, as a traveling salesman, was rarely home. If Mitsuko saw him twice a month it was a miracle.

She tried to push all thoughts of her increasingly distant husband away but they returned the moment her gaze caught on the oven mittens he'd bought her half a year ago and she resigned herself to dwelling on melancholic thoughts. Normally, Mitsuko wasn't one to lose herself to migraine-inducing contemplation, but she'd been in a peculiar mood all day…and it had started when she found a _sport's bra_ laying on her _teenage son's_ bedroom floor.

Before she could fret about the memory of that particular discovery she heard the front door open and the unmistakable sounds of her son and his friend—who was without a doubt the culprit of her current unease—entering the house. Mitsuko had just finished setting the last bowl of rice on the table when the two entered the dining room and greeted her.

"Afternoon, Shindou-san," his friend said, polite as always.

"Yeah, hey mom. What's for dinner, because I'm _starved_ ," her unruly son said in a rush, and Mitsuko was too charmed by his enthusiasm to be annoyed by the rudeness. Besides, Hikaru and rudeness had gone hand in hand since he was a child, so she was more than used to it.

"Fried pork and eggs over rice with steamed vegetables and soy sauce. And don't you even think about going near that table without washing up! Shoo! The quicker you clean up the quicker you eat."

Her son grumbled loudly as he dashed out of the room, followed closely behind his friend. Mitsuko watched them leave with a small frown, and after a moment, shook her head and started setting down three pairs of chopsticks.

She was sliding into her seat when Hikaru came trampling into the room with a face and hands that were noticeably damp. She didn't say anything, though, because she knew how hungry he was when he came home from that…school of his. With an inward sigh, Mitsuko lifted her own chopsticks and muttered, "Please enjoy the meal."

Hikaru was too busy stuffing his face, but his friend, by far the more polite of the two, said, "Thanks for the meal," and began eating at a much slower pace than the boy beside her.

After a moment of silence Mitsuko found her gaze lingering on the girl, and after several attempts to steer her thoughts in other, less perilous directions, she gave up and allowed herself to _think._

Potter Harria. Four years ago she had barged into her son's life out of nowhere (literally; Hikaru had once told her that they'd crashed into each other in the middle of the street and she, a complete stranger, had decided to follow him home) to teach her son a game she had no idea he was even remotely interested in.

Harria was an enigma. One would think that, after having the girl basically live out of her house every day for the past four years, Mitsuko would know her better, but she didn't. Harria was as mysterious as she'd been the first day she strolled into the Shindou residence. Oh, she'd certainly divulged more information about her life since then, but they were all…useless facts, like information she'd find in a report rather than a personal account of the girl herself.

Mitsuko wouldn't have cared so much if not for the fact that Hikaru had become unnaturally close to the girl, to the extent that they were _always_ together. Harria was there when Mitsuko woke up in the mornings (though to her knowledge she had never spent a night) and she was there when she came home to prepare dinner and she was there long after the sun had set, never leaving before Mitsuko retired for the night.

Normally Mitsuko would have complained about her overwhelming presence, using excuses such as impropriety and school grades to support her argument, but she _couldn't_ —not when Hikaru's grades had skyrocketed after meeting her, he'd stopped stealing and trying to swindle money from his grandparents, and neither of them seemed to care about things like indecency.

She supposed she _should_ have been grateful for all the positive changes the girl had inspired in her son, but that, too, was difficult to do because she didn't _understand_ it. She didn't understand how some girl could appear out of nowhere and get Hikaru to grow up when Mitsuko and her father-in-law had been trying for years.

There were other changes, too, some small and some big, but the most glaring of them all was Hikaru's sudden interest in Go. Oh, how her father-in-law had tried to spark an interest in his grandson, but it had never worked. " _I don't want to learn how to play some boring old people's game_ ," she'd often heard him say. And then a few weeks after meeting Harria, her son was suddenly _obsessed_ with it, going as far as to quit soccer so he could have more time to play and saving up his allowance so he could buy a computer to play online. Hikaru's grandpa was over the moon with the changes in Hikaru and adored the girl who caused them like she was his very own granddaughter, but Mitsuko couldn't quite bring herself to feel the same. Not when her son had changed into someone unrecognizable in front of her eyes and she still didn't have a reason for it.

"Where are you going?" her son's voice cut through her musings, and when Mitsuko looked up, she realized that Harria was standing.

"Toilet," she said, before flicking Hikaru in the forehead and dancing away before he could retaliate.

"Ow!" her son whined, rubbing his head. He shot a glare behind him then turned to his mother with a scowl. "She's so abusive."

She knew her son well enough to know he was joking. "And yet you keep her around," she said with forced evenness, setting the saucer of soy sauce down.

"I have Stockholm Syndrome, clearly," Hikaru said, with an air of someone gravely wronged. Despite her worries, Mitsuko couldn't help but smile at her son's theatrics. His penchant for melodrama had, at least, not changed.

They resumed eating, and Mitsuko's amusement faded as her thoughts continued their earlier trek. She deliberated for a long moment then, mustering the courage, asked, "Hikaru…you and Harria-san…are the two of you dating?"

A weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying was lifted when she finally uttered the question that had been weighing on her mind for some time.

Hikaru's chopsticks stilled a few centimeters from his mouth and the sliver of pork he'd been holding fell into the dish of soy sauce, splattering it against the sides. He blinked at his mother for a long moment, then looked down and fished out the meat.

The silence between them was anything but comfortable, but Mitsuko persevered. He was her fifteen year old _son_ and she had a right to know if the girl he spent so much time with behind locked doors was his girlfriend.

When Hikaru finally spoke, it startled her enough that she almost knocked over her glass of water. His nearly inaudible "No," sliced through the silent kitchen and lingered heavily in air.

"No?" Mitsuko repeated, blinking rapidly in surprise.

"No," Hikaru maintained, looking up. "Not for lack of trying on my part, though."

Mitsuko's eye's widened as that. While a part of her felt relieved that she didn't have _that_ to worry about (at least for the time being) another part felt bothered on Hikaru's behalf. Did Harria not think her son was good enough? The thought troubled her more than she wanted to admit.

"What do you mean?" she asked, the food in front of her forgotten.

Hikaru shrugged one shoulder and poked at his meat. "Just that. She's not interested in dating anyone at the moment. It's not a resolute 'no' but it's not an 'any time soon,' either."

"Oh," Mitsuko said. She was genuinely astonished. Didn't most girls their age want to date? She swiftly thought about Harria's unkempt hair, her disinclination towards make-up and accessories, the baggy, tomboyish clothes she wore, and the fact that she played _Go_ of all things, and suddenly the idea wasn't as farfetched as it had been. Harria wasn't like other girls, and she wondered if that was the reason why Hikaru got along with her so well.

"You know," Mitsuko started slowly as a once-buried idea stirred in her mind, "Akari-chan isn't seeing anyone."

She looked at her son hopefully, only to deflate when he cocked his head to the side and asked, "Who? Oh, her. Yeah, what about it?"

In just eight sentences all of Mitsuko's hopes of her son marrying her best friend's daughter were shattered. When Akari and Hikaru had drifted apart, she and Kanoko had despaired the end of that particular dream, but there'd always been a part of Mitsuko that held onto some hope of it happening. Wishful thinking on her part, obviously.

"Just…she's single and you used to be so close, Hikaru—"

"No," her son cut her off.

Mitsuko faltered. "But…you said Harria-san wasn't interested in dating so I thought…"

"That I'd give up on her and go after the next best thing?" Hikaru said with a derisive snort. "No way. I'm waiting for her for however long it takes."

Mitsuko worried her bottom lip and cautioned, "But you're only sixteen, Hikaru, far too young to settle down or even know what you want…"

"Bullcrap," he insisted, dropping his chopsticks and crossing his arms over his chest. "People get married at sixteen all the time in this country. I'm old enough to know what I want."

"Married—" Mitsuko's eyes widened in alarm.

"Not now, obviously." Hikaru waved his hand dismissively.

The _'but definitely at some point'_ did not go unheard.

"Hikaru—" she started, but stopped when she heard the distant sound of footsteps approaching. Harria appeared not a moment later, hands tucked in the dark sweater she was wearing.

"Sorry I took so long," she said, sliding into the seat beside Hikaru. "I got distracted by Dango-chan. Thought she was dead, but apparently the attention seeker was only faking it. Probably a good thing since Mochi-kun didn't seem particularly bothered."

It took Mitsuko a moment to realize that she was referring to the fish she and Hikaru had brought home from the summer festival. It surprised her every time she passed the tank to see that they were still alive.

"Another example of how frighteningly alike the two of you are," Hikaru quipped. All signs of his earlier irritation were gone from the moment Harria stepped into the room, and not for the first time, Mitsuko realized just how much Hikaru lit up when Harria entered the picture.

"Pot, kettle," Harria said easily, lifting her chopsticks. "At least my counterpart isn't a lazy bum who likes to chase his own tail. Maybe we should rename Mochi-kun to Karu-chan. The two of you certainly _look_ alike."

"Hey!" Hikaru protested, swiping at her.

Harria leaned away with a laugh. "Sorry, you're right. That was a bit insulting to the fish, wasn't it?"

Mitsuko could only think of the word _impish_ to describe her grin.

"Betrayed by my own ally," Hikaru complained to the ceiling, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. He looked disgruntled for all of five seconds before he glanced at Harria, who was still grinning at him, and his face eased into that gentle expression Mitsuko so rarely saw, and only when it was directed at the girl.

Mitsuko was honest enough with herself to admit that it made her jealous.

"Nah," Harria said, leaning over to ruffle his messy hair. "I always have your back."

Hikaru shot her a smile that was achingly sweet and reminded her so very much of the looks Heiharu used to give her when they'd been courting, and it made something tighten in her chest. When had Hikaru grown up enough to give someone such an intimate look? She felt like it was just yesterday that he was toddling through the house on wobbly legs and demanding hugs and kisses from his 'kaa-chan.'

Mitsuko turned away when Harria returned the smile and gazed unseeingly at her unfinished meal.

Her son was growing up. Becoming an adult. He had hobbies and interests Mitsuko did not share. He no longer told her anything about the daily activities of his life, no longer came to her for comfort or advice, no longer asked before making big decisions or looked to her for approval.

Day by day, Mitsuko could feel her son slipping further and further away from her, and she wondered when he, too, would leave her behind, just as her father had, and her husband was.

Hikaru was all Mitsuko had…but grown boys who were already starting careers and thinking about long-term relationships didn't need their mothers. She was losing him—to adulthood, to the world, and to the girl who was so effortlessly replacing her—and it hurt more than words could describe.

As Mitsuko lost herself in the spiral of her thoughts, she never noticed Harria staring consideringly at her from across the table.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TERMS:  
>  _Goban_ – Go board  
>  _Go-ke_ – Go stones  
>  _Moku_ – Points  
>  _Insei_ – Go apprentice at official program.


	3. Disclosure

 

**[1]**

 

_April._

"This place is smaller than I thought it would be," Hikaru commented. They were both observing the main floor where the Young Lion's Tournament was being held. While not exactly small, it wasn't nearly as big as the insei had led them to believe, even if the tournament was a minor one of little monetary value.

"Look on the bright side. At least we won't be gawked at by a million people while slowly boiling to death." Harria was grateful that the administrators had taken measures to keep the place warm, but there really was no reason why she had to place cooling charms on Hikaru and herself when it was barely ten degrees outside.

"I suppose. The money the winner gets is kind of lame, though. I'll be lucky if I can get three video games with that."

"Oh? Someone's getting a bit ahead of themselves."

Hikaru gifted her with a blinding grin. "Well, of course I'm going to win, alien-chan. Don't worry, I'll give you a quarter of my winnings, alright?"

Harria snorted in amusement even as a challenging glint flashed across her eyes. She had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially against someone who was assured in their own victory. It made beating them down so worth striving for.

Besides, it would make for a good statement. It was appalling that there weren't any women in the main league and Harria was going to change that. This would be the second step.

No matter what universe she was in, there was always something about male superiority that pissed her off. Some universes were more equal than others, the same way some were more extreme in their vehemence to draw lines between the genders (such as in the matriarchal society of Earth IV, and hadn't _that_ been an experience). Earth II's Japan was a far cry better than some other universes, but that was about all that could be said about it. Since she had no interest in getting involved with politics this time around she settled for doing something about the little world she'd decided to immerse herself in. With any luck, by the time she retired and left the world behind (or died, though she wouldn't hold her breath) she hoped that more female players joined the main league and rose in rank. They just needed a little… _incentive_ to make them set their sights higher.

"You've got that look in your eye," Hikaru commented, hooking his arm through hers.

She let him. "What look?"

He released a snort. "You know, the one that means you're making diabolical plans and intend to cause a stir. Don't even try to act coy—I know you too well. Besides, I'm the one who's always getting caught up in your crazy schemes. Catching on has become survival instinct at this point."

Harria rolled her eyes as she led them towards the main desk to be registered. Once done, they were given numbered badges—blue, to indicate that they were insei—and information regarding their first match before being sent on their way. The administrator eyed their linked hands and barely-formal attire with thinly veiled disdain, and Harria delighted in it. She'd chosen her outfit—a frilly, cream-colored blouse which was loosely tucked into gray trousers that cut off below the knee where the lip of tall black boots wrapped around her shin, ending in two-inch heels and silver tipped toes—to incite just that reaction. Hikaru hadn't been entirely wrong when he said she liked to cause a stir, though he was hardly one to talk. He was just as bad.

They spent several minutes wandering the hall before they bumped into anyone they actually knew. Nase and the three boys she could usually be found with were huddled in a corner near a vendor selling Go equipment, looking so painfully awkward it made Harria want to laugh. Hikaru didn't have her restraint and openly snorted at the group who, bless them, didn't understand what had caused that reaction. Harria pinched Hikaru's side when he looked ready to burst.

"Harria-chan," Nase breathed, and it amused Harria greatly that the girl looked so relieved to see her. She didn't understand why, considering they were all rivals there."It's good to see you."

"Likewise," Harria said, before greeting the others. It didn't go unnoticed when they gawked over her outfit.

"How are you three holding up?" she asked, more to break the awkwardness than out of any real concern. She had perfectly good eyes (extensive magical surgery had seen to that) and could figure that out for herself.

"A little nervous," Fukui admitted with a strained smile. "Even though the Young Lion's Tournament is a minor one, facing professional players is kind of nerve wrecking."

"Tell me about it," Honda inputted. "I barely slept last night, I was so nervous."

"But it's kind of exciting too, right? I mean, seeing how we hold up against pro's. Even if we only win our first match it's still huge to say that we defeated a 1-dan or 2-dan as insei."

"Nase's right," Waya said, giving the girl a smile, and Harria absolutely did not miss the way the two blushed when they looked at each other. When Honda rolled his eyes longsufferingly, she figured she wasn't the only one who had cottoned on.

"That's still a milestone," he continued, "though we should all strive to win our second matches, too."

"That's it? Why not aim higher? Like the whole tournament?" Hikaru asked with a frown. "That's what we're aiming for."

Waya, Honda, and Fukui rolled their eyes at him, and it looked like it took supreme effort for Nase not to do the same. "Because there's no way in hell insei are going to match up against mid-level dans or higher— _normal insei_ , because no offense or anything, but the two of you don't count. You're unnatural."

"Hey!" Hikaru said, sounding genuinely affronted.

Harria only laughed. It was true, after all—neither Hikaru nor Harria were at the levels of the typical insei. One only had to see how quickly they'd climbed to the first class of the insei program and monopolized the first and second seat to realize that.

"That may be true, but it's always good to aim just a little higher. Not so high that you can't feasibly meet your goals in a realistic timeframe and consequently get disheartened, but enough that you're always striving for something just out of reach. That way, when you meet your smaller goals, you won't get blindsided by the win and lose focus, and you'll keep moving forward because you'll still have far to go."

"Is that how you set goals for yourself?" Nase asked, and Harria had no doubt that the girl was hanging on her every word.

"I do." She inclined her head with a small smile. The smile turned sly as she added, "Hikaru, on the other, doesn't believe in little goals and always aims big. It's probably why he's such a grumpy person, come to think about it."

"What is this, pick-on-Hikaru-day or something?" Hikaru huffed, swatting Harria's hands away when she went to pinch his cheeks. "Besides, big is the way to go. It's boring otherwise."

"So basically," Waya said slowly, "you just don't have the patience or insight to plan small goals for yourself."

"Hey!"

The group tittered.

"Anyway," Fukui said, leaning forward, "did anyone else get a chance to see Touya?"

"Oh, I did!" Nase exclaimed. "He was with the Meijin and Ogata-Juudan."

"What is he now, a 4-dan? 5-dan?"

"4-dan," Honda told fukui, "though it's only because he caught pneumonia last year and took a three month leave. He'll probably get promoted again if he enters the Tengen tournament and makes it to the fifth round, though. At least, that's what sensei says."

"He'll be my opponent if I make it to the third round," Fukui said with a shudder. "As much as I'd like to get that far I really don't want to play against him. Touya is scary."

"Oi! Don't let that little creep intimidate you, Fuku! Kick his ass and show him who's boss!"

"Sure, and I'll steal the Honinbou title from Kuwabara-dono while I'm there," Fukui retorted sarcastically.

"What about you two?" Nase asked, turning to the two who had remained silent thus far. "How do you think you'd fare against him? Touya Akira is good— _really_ good. I saw him play against a 6-dan last summer and he totally thrashed him. Sensei told me the 6-dan has been on a losing streak ever since."

Harria and Hikaru glanced at each other for a long moment, then simultaneously grinned.

"We can't wait," Hikaru said, clenching his hands into fists. He was practically buzzing with excitement, and Harria understood why. Touya Akira was _good_. The kifu of his that they'd studied bespoke of someone who had an excellent grasp of the game. Moreover, he was _interesting_. The boy might not be at the level of his father, but his hands were far more complex, and definitely more fascinating. Both of them had been wanting to set up a match against him for ages, but there was very little opportunity of that happening as they were still insei. This was their chance.

"He's mine," Harria said immediately, staking a claim.

Hikaru narrowed his eyes and scowled at her. "No way; he's _mine_."

"You'll have to beat me first, Karu-chan, and I assure you that won't be happening. It _was_ you who lost the last two games against me, after all," she said vindictively.

"They were a fluke!" Hikaru spluttered indignantly. "And there's no way in hell I'm going to let you have a shot at him, _alien-chan_. He's mine!"

"Alien-chan?" she heard Waya say in confusion, but she pointedly ignored him.

"Why don't we bet on it?"

Hikaru's mouth fell shut and he peered at her suspiciously. "A bet?"

"A bet," Harria said with a nod, "and the one who loses the semi-final round will have to do whatever the winner wants."

Hikaru's eyes glinted. "Whatever?"

They were standing so close now their noses were nearly brushing.

" _Whatever_ ," she breathed.

Hikaru's eyes fluttered half-mast until only a sliver of pale green was showing, and he shivered. "You're going to regret that, alien-chan."

"We'll see," Harria said simply, before giving into the urge to kiss _something_ and settling on his forehead. The skin was smooth and warm and his hair tickled her cheeks when she shifted. She pulled away slowly and said without looking at him, "The first round is going to start soon so we should get going. Let's rendezvous later, alright?"

Harria walked away, feeling Hikaru's gaze drilling into her back, and wondered why it was that a nine-hundred (plus) year old _something_ could have so little self-restraint when it came to an ordinary human boy of just sixteen.

It made absolutely no sense.

* * *

 

 

**[2]**

A painted fingernail confidently set down a white stone and green eyes watched in satisfaction as the intricate patterns on the board seemed to snap into place at the newest addition. In her mind's eye she could see everything so clearly—a solid stone barricade that started at the center point and exploded outwards like a star. Then there were the secondary defenses, the palisades, which stitched across the board in sophisticated arrays and forced the army of black to scatter.

The enemy had been subjugated. Its foot shoulders were scattered amongst the battlefield, unable to mobilize or congregate. The white army wouldn't allow them to push forward or fall back, and suicide would not gain them territory or bring down the overwhelming black battalion that surrounded them.

Pale lips quirked upwards. She had won that battle—mercilessly, brutally—and all she awaited now was—

"…I resign."

—the capitulation of the general.

"Thank you for the game," Harria murmured, bowing her head. She leaned over to cease the timer and her opponent took the opportunity to flee. Harria watched from the corner of her eye as the woman stumbled across the room with the desperation of someone who had just been emotionally and mentally slaughtered, and could do little to hold back the snort.

Really, a 4-dan should have more composure than that.

With a shake of her head, Harria moved forward to clear the board when the person who'd been lingering behind her for the past half-hour stepped forward and said, "Wait."

Harria allowed her hands to fall to her sides as the man came to a halt beside the board and studied it intently, designer glasses falling down his nose only to be pushed upward again with a slender finger.

She thought he looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him, which was odd. Harria would have remembered meeting a man such as him. He was incredibly handsome, for one thing, with sharp features and long limbs. His carefully styled dirty-blond hair and piercing blue eyes were certainly eye-catching. But what stood out the most was the man's _presence._ Some would argue that it was contributed by the man's expensively tailored western suit, but Harria knew better. The clothes he wore only emphasized what was already there—and that was confidence. Unwavering, impenetrable, hard-earned confidence.

"Impressive game, for an insei," the man commented, distracting her from her blatant study. The man's voice was one-part drawl, one-part statement, and seabed-deep.

"I'll take it as a compliment and not the jab it was intended to be," Harria retorted, mockingly.

The man's eyes cut to hers. "Hm. Potter Harria, I presume."

"You presume correctly, though I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage."

The man watched her for a moment, then said, "Ogata Seiji."

_Ah_ , she thought, then quipped, "I thought you'd be older."

"I could say the same," Ogata shot back.

"Touché," Harria said with a grin. She folded her arms and leaned into the back of her chair and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of an esteemed _juudan's_ visit?"

"Curiosity. It's not often that an insei rises to the first seat of A-class within three months of joining the program then proceeds to beat a solid 4-dan."

Harria inclined her head. "That would do it then, I suppose."

Ogata looked like he didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. "You're arrogant. I wasn't expecting that."

"Then you should have done your research properly," she retorted. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with having confidence in one's skill."

"There's a difference between arrogance and confidence."

"On the contrary, the line between the two is so fine it's nearly invisible…as I think you very well know, Ogata-juudan."

The man looked thoroughly amused now, and Harria knew she was reflecting it keenly. It had been a long time since she had exchanged barbs with an actual adult, and not someone who only played the role. It was exhilarating.

" _Hariko-p_ ," Ogata said suddenly.

"Yes, _seiji_?"

"Friends with _Blondie55_ and _SAI_ ," the man continued, confirming that it was him and apparently unfazed that she knew his NetGo username as well.

"I detect a question in there somewhere."

"Then perhaps you should consider investigative work instead of professional Go."

"And here I was, under the impression that was where _your_ talents laid. My mistake, Ogata-san." Harria saw the corners of his lips curl up and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from doing the same.

"Only a pastime," the man said, not bothering to deny that he had in fact researched her. Not that Harria would have believed him if he'd said otherwise.

Ogata continued deftly, " _Blondie55_ is Shindou, I've no doubt—"

"What could have possibly given it away?"

"—but I've yet to discover the man who calls himself _SAI_. It's only logical to assume that if you know one, you'd likely know the other."

Harria observed the man for a long moment, noting that he had inched closer and was staring at her with keen interest. Harria considered lying, if only to prolong the verbal spar for some time, but tossed the idea aside. Ogata seemed like the type to be annoyingly persistent when he caught a whiff of something interesting, and frankly, Harria wasn't in the mood to play on that.

"A valid assumption," she conceded.

Ogata's eyes flashed with surprise, likely that she had admitted it. His expression went taut and he leaned forward so that he was boxing her in, one hand placed on the back of her chair and the other at the edge of the table. Really, the man was lucky that the majority of the observers were on the other side of the room watching Touya Akira's match or his boldness would have caused some _interesting_ rumors.

"You do know _SAI_ , then," he breathed. Then, more eagerly, "Who is he? What's his name?"

Such eagerness. Such desperation. Such relief. Harria felt genuine regret that she'd have to shatter his hopes with the truth—well, a believable variation of it. The end result was the only thing of import, anyway: Sai was no longer there.

"He's dead," she said bluntly, choosing not to mince words. She wondered if she had made the right decision when Ogata's face when slack with shock. With an inward sigh, she relayed the story that she and Hikaru (well, mainly she) had come up with for when the question was inevitably asked. "There was a reason Sai could only play over the Internet, and it was because he was terminally ill. Hikaru and I met him in the hospital four years ago when his grandmother fell ill. Sai passed away last October." Short and to the point, giving nothing away, and mixed with slivers of the truth. The perfect formula for the believable lie.

A long, heavy moment passed before Ogata could bring himself to speak. "He's _dead_ ," he said blankly, leaning away from her. He looked like a man who discovered a goldmine only to realize it held nothing more valuable than iron pyrite.

"Yes," Harria said, staring him in the eye so he could see the truth.

A visible tremor wracked through him, and Ogata removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I see," he said thickly. "What…was his name?"

"Sai. I won't disclose his surname, though. He wanted his privacy, and I won't betray that."

"I see," Ogata said again. "How old was he?"

Harria paused. "You know, I never thought to ask. If I had to guess, I'd say late-twenties, early-thirties."

"That young?" Ogata muttered, drawing his hand away and returning his glasses. To Harria's relief, the man no longer looked like he was about to fall to pieces. He was still deathly pale and still looked like a man whose world had been thrust in an unwanted direction, but he was for the most part composed. "It figures," he said bitterly.

"The brightest stars burn the fastest," Harria murmured, glancing at the stones on the board. Her game, her style, was entirely her own, but if one squinted they could still see Sai there, like the foundations of a house that had been renovated many times. It was more apparent in Hikaru's Go, who hadn't been taught by anyone else, but it was still there, and that was comforting, somewhat.

"Indeed," Ogata sighed, looking truly exhausted. "I wanted to play against him again."

_Don't we all,_ Harria thought, but opted to say, " _seiji_ played three games against him, if I remember correctly. That's more than most could claim."

Ogata started in surprise and narrowed his eyes at her. "You were there?"

"Hikaru and I were his hands," she said simply, knowing he'd jump to the desired conclusion. It was better that they believed the worst of his condition to deter further investigation into who Sai was. Not that Harria truly believed that Ogata would let it die without knowing at least a name, but he might feel less inclined to hound them in the future if he thought Sai really had been that ill.

The beauty of it was that the lie wasn't all that far off.

"I see," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "But why didn't you make an announcement? The NetGo community has been scrambling for months, trying to find out why he disappeared."

That stopped Harria short. She stared at Ogata in surprise and, folding her arms, said sheepishly, "Oh. We must have forgotten."

"You forgot," he said flatly.

She offered him an apologetic shrug. "Well, yeah, we don't go on much anymore. When Sai died," she ignored his grimace, "we made the decision to enter the insei program, so we started visiting Go salons instead of strictly playing online. And then we became insei, so…we got distracted. I'll make an announcement tonight."

Ogata nodded in grudging acceptance and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He withdrew one and slid it between his teeth, unlit, the very visage of a desperate man who badly needed to smoke.

"You must hate all the non-smoking signs that are popping up everywhere, huh?" she said dryly, eyeing his death stick with interest. Usually cigarettes repulsed her, but it suited him somehow. Gave him the impression of being regal.

"You have no idea," Ogata muttered over his fag. "They're pointless."

"Tabaco contains carcinogens and extensive exposure to secondhand smoke has been proven to cause cancer," Harria pointed out dryly.

Ogata sounded almost sulky as he said, "So does the sun, yet they haven't made it a law to carry umbrellas."

"A good thing, too. This city is crowded enough."

Ogata grunted and, with a despondent look, tucked the cigarette into his breast pocket. Harria figured it just didn't have the same effect unlit. "The third round is going to start in twenty minutes. Who's your opponent?"

That was her cue to clear out the board. "Someone named Ashiwara Hiroyuki, I think. Assuming he hasn't been knocked out of the tournament yet."

"Unlikely," Ogata snorted, coming to stand beside her once more. Harria rolled her eyes when he made no move to help separate the stones. Not that it was much of a hardship; there were very few black stones to remove. Harria had seen to that. "Ashiwara is a 4-dan, and he's one of the Meijin's pupils. The youngest one, in fact. He's a solid player, and not one to be intimidated easily."

Harria smirked. "Are you saying I look intimidating, Ogata-san?"

"Not at all," Ogata refuted, boxing her in once more. She felt like his eyes were piercing right through her when he said, "And that is precisely why you're so very _dangerous_."

Her mouth curled up at the corners and she angled her head so that she was gazing up at him from beneath her fringe. To her delight, Ogata inhaled sharply at what she knew to be a very enticing position. Her eyes were her best feature, after all. "Flattery," she said slowly, allowing her eyelashes to dip and reveling in the look he was giving her—visibly affected, despite himself, "will get you everywhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ogata murmured. His eyes reminded her of the summer sky just before a storm.

"That would—"

"Harria!"

The words died on her tongue as a familiar voice called her name, and she blinked and swiveled her head, breaking their connection. Hikaru's hair and casual attire was easy enough to spot, though it took her a moment to determine that it _was_ him simply because he was wearing an expression she wasn't often on the opposite end of. The word _anger_ came to mind and Harria took note of the way his gaze was flickering suspiciously between her and Ogata, who was making no move to remove himself from her personal space. She didn't doubt that it was intentional.

"Hi, Hikaru," she said cheerfully as he approached them. The boy was practically bristling, and the looks he was shooting Ogata were so bereft of subtlety that she wondered how humans managed to survive so long when most wore their emotions so clearly on their face. Though, to be fair, she admitted that his candidness was one of the things she appreciated about him the most, even if it was sometimes painful to witness.

"I was waiting for you," he forced out, glaring intently at Ogata, who still had not moved.

Harria ignored the instigator and offered Hikaru her full attention. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I got distracted. Here, let me introduce you. Ogata-san, this is Shindou Hikaru. Hikaru, this is Ogata-juudan. He's been kind enough to indulge my desire to be interrogated—er, I meant _conversed with_. Silly me."

She heard the man snort quietly, but Hikaru didn't seem to share their amusement.

"The next match is going to start soon," he said flatly. "We should get going."

"Alright, let me just finish clearing the board." She turned to Ogata and said with regret that wasn't entirely feigned, "As _titillating_ as our conversation has been, I really must be going. I've got pro's to beat and a tournament to win—I'm sure you understand."

"Whatever, brat." Ogata rolled his eyes but he dutifully pulled away from her, taking the electric tension that had been crackling between them with him. Admittedly, Harria mourned its loss. "We'll talk later."

"It's a date, then," Harria said, just to see how he'd react.

Ogata only looked amused. "I'm not in the habit of dating pubescent brats—"

"Hey," Harria complained mildly.

"—but I might be persuaded to make an exception," he continued, ignoring the spluttering protest that came from Hikaru. His eyes were trained solely on Harria, and she was vain enough to acknowledge that monopolizing Ogata's attention felt thrilling. The man really was stupidly good looking.

"Your terms?" she asked, knowing full well that the man had no intention of going on a date with her but taking the bait anyway.

Ogata's smile put sharks to shame. "A game."

"How…predictable," she sighed with faux disappointment. "Well, at least you're upfront about your dishonorable objective, which is certainly more than I can say of most men. Feel free to call me anytime, Ogata-san. I would give you my number, but I'm sure you'd appreciate the chance to exert that… _pastime_ of yours."

Ogata threw his head back and barked a laugh, which pleased her as she didn't think he was the type of man who expressed himself freely very often. Harria followed the arch of his throat with her eyes, fascinated by the muscles and tendons that elongated with the movement. The man caught her looking, of course he did, and his mouth twisted in a satisfied smirk. Clearly Ogata was just as vain as she was.

"Good luck in the tournament, _Harria-chan_ ," he enunciated her name, drawing out the syllables. It sent a delicious tingle jolting down her spine. "And you too, Shindou-san. I look forward to seeing how everything plays out." And with that, the man turned on his heel and walked away. He disappeared into the bustling crowd not a moment later.

Without Ogata there to distract her, Harria proceeded to return the stones to their respective go-ke and set the bowls beside the goban. Task completed, she turned to her possessive puppy, not at all surprised to find that he had turned his glare towards her now that the primary object of his ire was no longer in the vicinity.

Harria would have rolled her eyes at his possessiveness if it weren't for the genuine hurt she could see lurking in his eyes. To herannoyance, she actually felt somewhat guilty for flirting so abashedly in front of him, innocent though it might have been. Such a development didn't please her in the slightest, not in the least because they weren't actually involved ( _yet_ , her mind whispered) and she had _enjoyed_ it with the enthusiasm of an adult self-imprisoned in the body of a sixteen year old and almost exclusively in the company of kids.

She supposed it was to be expected, considering how much she cared for Hikaru. He was still young, barely a tiny sprout compared to the skyscraping tree she was, and his emotions ruled him with the ease of wind sifting sand. He would understand the idea of 'meaningless flirting' when he was older, but for the time being he wouldn't be able to make the distinction. He thought she was playing with his heart, and the accusation was in every rigid line of his taut body.

Cursing the softness of a heart that should have long ago turned hard, Harria sidled up to him and drew his hands into hers. She felt even more guilty when he didn't resist her like she thought he would and only clung tighter, as if fearing she'd disappear if he let go.

"Come on, Hikaru. Let's go somewhere quiet," she said, and pulled him into the crowd.

* * *

 

 

**[3]**

"You were flirting with him," was the first thing Hikaru said to her the moment they stepped into the semi-deserted lounge, voice laced with hurt.

Harria momentarily ignored him in favor of seeking out a secluded area to have their inevitable conversation. She spotted a dark alcove behind a vending machine that was conveniently concealed by said machine and another wall, and dragged the sulking boy behind it. Their display raised a few eyebrows, but most people were too busy rushing to get something to eat or drink before the next round of the tournament to pay them much mind. Which, speaking of…

"We have ten minutes until our next match, so let's settle this quickly, alright?" she said, valiantly disregarding the wounded look he was a giving her. Gods, but she would have felt less guilty poisoning a puppy.

"You—" he started, but Harria cut him off with a raised hand.

"Yes, I was flirting," she stated, "and no, I don't regret it and probably will again. Why? Because Ogata is, frankly, gorgeous, and I'm not involved with anyone, so it's well within my rights to do."

"I see," he said bitterly, turning his head away. The lack of adequate lighting made him look older and pronounced his rigid scowl, which Harria could only partially see. Shoulders stiffened as they were, Harria could see an echo of the man he one day be—someone tall and broad who was stimulated by passion and wielded it like a well-used sword.

"No," Harria sighed quietly, "you really don't." She touched Hikaru's chin with her fingers and nudged. It took a moment, but eventually Hikaru's pale green eyes slid towards her as if they were a compass and she were his lodestar. More affected by his easy surrender than she was willing to admit, she ignored the warmth spreading in her chest and cupped the side of his face. Softly, she said, "You don't own me, Hikaru. Even if we were involved, you wouldn't own me. Do you understand?"

Because Harria was ancient and accustomed to being unrestrained, and while she could promise monogamy, she wouldn't forfeit her freedom to behave or say as she pleased. Her ultimatum was perhaps unkind of her, but it at least curbed the inevitable resentment she'd undoubtedly feel if she were to be shackled by a relationship that would, at most, last a few decades.

One day, and probably sooner than any of them wanted, Hikaru would be _gone_. It was as inevitable as the setting of the sun. Knowing that, Harria would not change herself for someone whose lifespan was but a sliver of her own. If she gave herself to him as completely as Hikaru no doubt desired, how much worse off would she be when the unavoidable came?

Investing in something—no, growing _closer_ to someone who was fated to die was dangerous enough. Harria wouldn't further endanger herself by giving Hikaru more than she could take back.

"I know that, but…" Hikaru trailed off, pulling her from her unwelcome thoughts. Hikaru ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it further, and exhaled an explosive breath. "I _know_ that, but I thought you…" he trailed off again, looking frustrated and lost and so very far out of his depth.

Which he was. If circumstances had been different, the most Hikaru would have had to worry about was typical teenager problems. Instead, fate stuck him with a Go-obsessed ghost and, to some extent, a magic-wielding dimension traveler who couldn't die. As neither came with an instructional manual, he was forced to adapt to the situation and deal with the complications that arose the best he could.

It wasn't exactly fair, but then very few things in life were.

Harria couldn't resist leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the forehead of a boy who'd been dealt unpredictable cards. She drew away and murmured, "I can't belong to you, not completely, but if you can accept that I'll share with you everything I can."

Hikaru swallowed heavily and started to reply, but Harria pressed a finger against his lips to still his words. "I want you to think about it before giving me an answer. _Carefully_. Because if you say _yes_ , Hikaru, if we take a step in that direction…I don't imagine I'll ever give you up. Not before I absolutely have to."

For a long moment Hikaru just stared at her and Harria could read a thousand questions and statements in his gaze. He eventually nodded, and she pulled her finger away and pulled him into a hug.

This kid was going to be the death of her.

(Not likely, but a woman could dream.)

"Harria," Hikaru started, breath warm against her ear, "you…what about that guy? You two…"

"Ogata-juudan?" she asked, noting the way he stiffened in her arms. She could almost imagine the look on his face and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll take that as a yes. Look Hikaru, it was meaningless flirting, alright? Fun, definitely, but it won't go anywhere. I'm not willing to take it further, and Ogata-san doesn't seem the type to be into kids, anyway."

"…You're older than you look," Hikaru argued.

Harria snorted at his ridiculous response. "That's nice, but it means nothing when I'm in this body and aging at a normal human rate. And since I have no intention of telling the guy 'hey, I may look sixteen but really I'm a nine-hundred and something year old alien and therefore totally legal and would you like to go on a date with me?' we're kind of at a roadblock."

To Harria's relief, Hikaru dropped his head and laughed. _Good,_ she thought, watching him. She liked him best when he was happy.

"You should tell him that," Hikaru wheezed, stepping away from her to clutch his stomach. "You really should. I'll have to record it. He'll think you're _insane_."

"I'm pretty sure he thinks that anyway," Harria admitted ruefully. Ogata definitely thought she was barmy. Since it was likely the mad genius type, she didn't mind it so much.

"Alright, alright, it's time to go. The next round starts in five minutes and if we're going to make it in time we're going to have to hurry."

That stopped Hikaru short. "Five _minutes_?" he gasped, eyes darting to the overhanging clock on the wall. "Shit! We'll be disqualified if we're not at our stations by then! C'mon, Harria, hurry up!"

Harria indulgently allowed him to grab her hand and drag her out of their little alcove. The lounge had become nearly empty, and the few people who were there visibly startled when they stepped out.

They broke into a run and sprinted for the main hall, ignoring the angry mutters and looks of disapproval from everyone around them. Their insei master wouldn't be happy with them, but that was alright because Hikaru's hand was warm and steady in hers and for once the drama in her life was no more exciting than the average human's.

They eventually made it to their seats with a minute to spare, to Hikaru's opponent's disappointment and her opponent's relief.

And then the timer went off, and it was time to play.

* * *

 

 

**[4]**

Seiji was not at all surprised that Harria— _Potter_ , he reminded himself—was cutting her arrival time so close. She'd already given him the impression that she was the type who would bend rules to see how far she could stretch them only to step back the moment they reached the breaking point.

He watched as Potter and her opponent proceeded to _nigiri,_ caught between wanting to head over and observe their game or check out Shindou who he'd yet to see play before. Heading over to Shindou's station should have been the logical choice, but Seiji felt _drawn_ towards the girl's match. He could have tried to rationalize it by persuading himself that it was because her opponent was Ashiwara, who Seiji knew personally, but he'd never been the type to lie to himself and he wasn't inclined to start now.

It was ridiculous that Seiji, a professional Go player and holder of the Juudan title, was _intrigued_ by an insei, and not just because she had a talent for Go. Potter Harria (and what a strange, yet fitting name that was), a girl of only sixteen, was more interesting than the vast majority of the adults he spent time with, willfully and otherwise.

But oh, was she interesting. Seiji had met people twice her age who weren't half as clever and daring. And that _tongue_ on her. Perhaps it was a good thing she'd chosen to pursue a career in Go and not politics. One only had to listen to her speak for five minutes and watch her play Go to realize that she'd be the Japanese Prime Minster if she wanted it enough, nationality and gender notwithstanding.

Out of habit, and perhaps yearning, Seiji patted his breast pocket where a cigarette laid within. He was deliberating taking a third option and leaving to take a much-needed smoke break when he heard the unmistakable voice of Shinoda Taichi call his name. Turning, Seiji spotted the man leisurely approaching, carrying a bulky white manila folder under one arm.

"Ogata-juudan," the insei master greeted, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. "I wasn't sure if you would be coming."

"Shinoda-san." He inclined his head. "The participants are _interesting_ this year."

"Aren't they just?" Shinoda said with a smile. "The insei are faring particularly well. Shindou and Potter exempted, I never imagined that the others would hold their own as well as they have, but they've far exceeded my expectations."

"Ah. Refresh my memory, if you would? I'm afraid I've been too distracted to see the match-up board."

Shinoda gave him a knowing look, to which Seiji paid little heed; rarely did anything get past the insei master. "Fukui Yuta, Sato Junpei, and Sakokawa Hitsumi made it to the second round, and Honda Toshinori, Nase Ayumi and Waya Yoshitaka were eliminated in the third. And then there's Shindou Hikaru and Potter Harria who, as I'm sure you know, will enter the semi-finals depending upon their performance."

That…was astonishing. Ogata adjusted his glasses and gave an acquiescing nod. "It's rare that insei make it past the first round," he commented quietly. It wasn't for lack of talent on their part, either. All sixteen insei would have to face sixteen younger pros between 1-dan and 5-dan ranks, and not all of them were lucky enough to get a 1 or 2-dan in the first round.

"Quite," Shinoda beamed, clearly proud. "They all performed spectacularly. By the way, Ogata-san, were you intending to watch any of the matches? I apologize if I interrupted you."

"Ah…not quite." When Shinoda gave him a questioning look, he admitted, "I wasn't sure which game I should keep an eye on."

Shinoda chuckled quietly. "Understandable. Potter and Shindou are formidable players. The administrators are in a panic that they might make it to the finals. It would throw the entire structure of the event out of order. The final round is traditionally supposed to consist of a single match between an insei and a pro, as you well know. Two insei making it to the semi-finals is unprecedented."

"What if they both win?" Ogata asked, because that was an actual possibility now and not an opportunity to play his favored devil's advocate role.

"The administrators will either call upon another pro and have a dual final round where the winners will split the winnings, or they'll make Potter and Shindou battle it out in the semi-finals and whoever wins will enter the finals."

Seiji stared at him in surprise. "That's…"

"I know," Shinoda said dryly, shaking his head, "but what can we do? Everyone knows the setup for the latter rounds is heavily manipulated by the whims of the administrators. It's rather hard to defend the arrangement of a system that's already so disorganized."

"I see," Seiji muttered, even as his mind whirred with the news. A match between Shindou and Harria…that would be interesting. Before he could stop himself he found himself asking, "Shinoda-san, between the two of them, who wins the most ranking matches in the program?"

"Against each other, I'm assuming you mean? Then Potter, though that's not terribly unsurprising as she has two years of experience on Shindou…not that's not much of an indicator when it comes to those two since I know people with triple the experience who likely couldn't match them."

"So would you say that Potter was stronger?" Ogata questioned, eyeing the man intently.

Shinoda pursed his lips and hummed. "Stronger, huh? No, I wouldn't say that as it implies that they're at fixed strengths. In reality, the two of them are constantly fluctuating. Potter might have more documented wins total, but twice already Shindou has wrestled first seat from her. So I suppose I'd say they were about equal in terms of power. Of course, one should take into consideration that they both play against one another extensively and as such are intimately familiar with each other's strengths and weaknesses."

Equal in terms of power, huh? That, too, was surprising. That they were childhood friends who met a Go prodigy in the hospital by chance and ended up being Go prodigies themselves was nothing short of miraculous.

Seiji was pulled from his thoughts when a chorus of murmurs broke out to the left of him. He craned his head and realized it was the crowd surrounding Shindou's station that was making the ruckus. Clearly something of interest must have happened to have caused such a stir.

"Ah, I'm afraid I've wasted too much time chattering," Shinoda chuckled, eyes trained in Shindou's direction, as well. "It's regretful, but I really must take these files to the administrators." He gestured to the folder he was holding before apologizing to Seiji for taking up so much of his time and, with a final yearning glance towards the buzzing crowd, trotted off in the opposite direction.

For a long while Seiji simply stood there, turning over everything Shinoda had said. Another widespread murmur of the crowd surrounding Shindou drew his attention, but after a moment of consideration, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to Potter's game with Ashiwara.

If what Shinoda said was true, then he'd get to see Shindou play in the last match. Until then, he could afford to indulge.

He'd never been one for self-restriction _or_ self-restraint anyway.

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Part 1 of the Young Lion's Tournament. A certain someone was supposed to have made his appearance this chapter but I didn't want to prolong the chapter any further. Next time, I promise. Anyway, about Ogata and Harria's relationship—yeah, that's how it wanted to be written so I went with it. They won't ever be romantically interested in one another, but there's definitely some mutual attraction, most of which is platonic. Mostly they just enjoy flouting social norms, flirting, and being snarky, and have found a kindred spirit in the other. Hahaha.
> 
>  
> 
> TERMS:  
>  _Dan_ – refers to pro ranks  
>  _Insei_ – go apprentice at an official program  
>  _Kifu_ – game records  
>  _Goban_ – Go board  
>  _Go-ke_ – bowl that holds Go stones  
>  _Moku_ – game points  
>  _Nigiri_ – pre-game procedure that determines who plays first (black)  
>  _Juudan/Meijin/Honinbou_ – professional Go titles, won via tournaments


	4. Momentous

 

**[1]**

When Hikaru was eight years old his parents had taken him to the countryside to visit his mother's relatives. One particular memory always came to mind when he thought about that partially interesting, partially hellish week—him, kneeling at the bank of a listless river while he tried to spear fish with a stick that was more branch than twig. Hikaru remembered being constantly distracted from his objective by all the _bugs_ that had been there, buzzing incessantly in his ear and disregarding the bug spray his mother had coated him with as they treated his skin like a lighthouse.

Hikaru felt like he was that eight year old all over again as he slid into his seat, the spectators surrounding them in a tight circle and buzzing like flies. He couldn't even appreciate the attention because there were so many of them staring at him like they wanted to cut him open and see what made him tick. It was a wonder _anyone_ did well in the tournament.

He glanced up from the empty goban when his opponent slid into the seat opposite his, and Hikaru wasn't surprised in the least to see that she seemed entirely unaffected. A circus troupe could rampage through the hall right then and she likely wouldn't bat an eyelash. He supposed it was to be expected, though—compared to all the fantastical places she's been and otherworldly things she's seen, a small smattering of oglers was probably tame. Still, that didn't mean Hikaru didn't envy her that talent.

Harria quit her careful study of her nails—which were painted, courtesy of him (not that he'd admit that to anyone, _ever_ )—and finally glanced up at him. She looked far too amused for his liking, as if she were privy to the wide spectrum of thoughts that were crossing his mind (and she probably was, though she'd never admitted to mindreading being a part of her magical repertoire), and Hikaru looked away with an irritated huff.

Stupid, all-knowing aliens who didn't know the meaning of the word discomposed.

Without his consent his thoughts flickered to the conversation they'd had earlier and he felt a familiar fluttering sensation in his stomach. He knew it wasn't the time to dwell on such things but he couldn't help it. Harria's message had been clear: if he could convince her that he truly wanted a relationship with her, she'd permit it. He'd always known on some level that she wasn't _truly_ adverse to the idea, but to hear her actually say it, with substantive words he could trap in his memory and refer to as often as he needed, was another thing entirely.

Hikaru didn't care if she couldn't give all of herself to him. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true, but it didn't change the fact that he still wanted her, wanted to _be_ with her. He might not have had Sai's ageless wisdom or Harria's eerie insight, but Hikaru was smart enough to know that a relationship with the girl wouldn't be like anything he'd have with anyone else.

To Harria, whose existence was as endless as the stretch of the sky, Hikaru probably seemed as fleeting as a storm in comparison. He thought about the way she sometimes looked at him, as if he were a blink away from disappearing and leaving her all alone, and he marveled that despite everything she had _still_ let him in, still let him close. Still allowed him to crawl inside her heart and make a home there even knowing that there'd come a day when she'd have to scrape out his remains and carry on without him.

So no, Hikaru didn't resent her holding back in a way he wouldn't be able to if he tried. That she was willing to share herself with him at all was more than he could have hoped for.

The booming voice of the administrator jarred him from his thoughts, and when he looked up he realized, to his dismay, that the crowd had grown even larger. Talk about playing under pressure. He slid his eyes forward, catching Harria's gaze just before she rolled her eyes at the admin's theatrics, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a reluctant smile.

Harria must have seen something in his expression that hinted at the pensive turn his thoughts had taken for she cocked her head to the side in an amusingly bird-like manner and jutted her chin out. _Are you okay?_ her eyes asked even as they scrutinized him with the aptitude of a palmist reading lines on a hand.

At her unrestrained concern he felt his smile settle into something more genuine and he inclined his head. _I'm okay._

Her gaze pierced him for a second longer then retreated, taking him for his word, trusting him not to lie to her, and believing in him to know himself. Her confidence—not only in herself, but in him, too—was one of the many, many things Hikaru loved about her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the semi-final round of the 36th annual Young Lion's Tournament," the pompous administrator declared. "As I'm sure you've all realized, the hosts of this tournament have decided to improvise on the match order on account of there being _two_ semi-finalists from the insei-program!"

A small smattering of applause broke out in the crowd, and the admin continued, "We've decided to do this so the tradition of the final round between an insei and a pro can be upheld. The contestants of this round are Shindou Hikaru and Potter Harria, both of whom entered the insei program at the start of this year!"

 _That_ certainly caused the noise-level to kick up a notch. Apparently their rapid climb to the top wasn't common knowledge. Hikaru caught sight of a man with a camera looped around his neck eyeing them with a hungry look in his eyes that bordered on creepy, and cringed. He had a feeling their lives were going to get a lot more annoying.

"The winner of this match will make it to the final round, where they will face Touya Akira, 4-dan. The current match will now begin. Please respect the players and remain silent for the duration of the game, which has been limited to eighty-five minutes with a one-minute allotment per move. Contestants, please begin."

Hikaru exhaled and closed his eyes. As he breathed, he let _everything_ fade into the background. When he opened them again he found that he'd become almost deaf and blind to the world around him. He was aware only of the gleaming surface of the goban, and the brimming go-ke, and of Harria—not as his best friend or the girl he loved, but his opponent; someone to fight against, and overwhelm, and defeat.

" _Nigiri_ ," Harria's spoke, her voice loud in the sudden silence. The sound of rustling hit his ears as she reached into the go-ke full of white stones, lifted her hand and poised it over the goban, and waited.

Hikaru reached into the go-ke nearest him, retrieved two black stones, and set them down.

Harria set her handful of stones onto the goban and organized them into three pairs of two. To Hikaru's disappointment, there was a leftover.

He caught the gleam in her eye and inwardly cursed. It was _never_ a good thing when Harria claimed black. She had an annoying tendency of taking the lead and _keeping_ it.

 _But not this time,_ he thought, returning her stare. _He_ wanted that match against Touya insei, it was an opportunity neither of them would likely have again for months.

He needed to win.

All too quickly the goban was cleared, the stones returned to their respective bowls, and they were uttering the traditional opening phrases. Harria dipped her fingers into her bowl and stared at Hikaru from across the board, expression blank but eyes holding promise.

She was going to go all out, and she expected Hikaru to do the same.

As if he would give anything less.

A single black stone was set on the upper left star, like the first stake of a palisade being drilled into the ground. Hikaru knew that if he didn't cut her off early it would only continue to grow until she dominated the board with an impenetrable line of defense. _Fuseki_ had always been her strong suit, and once she wrangled the lead, it would be hard to take it back.

Hikaru considered his next move for a long moment, then reached for a white stone and placed it at the adjacent star just before the minute came to an end.

 _Let the battle begin,_ he thought.

* * *

 

 

**[2]**

"…And black wins by one moku," the administrator declared, and Hikaru absently noted that the man sounded kind of breathless, though damned if he knew why. _He_ hadn't been the one to play against a viciously determined alien who treated Go like war.

The crowd was muttering excitedly around him, though Hikaru's attention was fixed entirely on the board. He'd lost, and though he was definitely disappointed about that, he could admit that it had been a good game. A _great_ one, even. One of his best.

That Harria's win hadn't been easily achieved made the sting of losing more bearable.

"Thanks for the game," Hikaru said, bowing.

Harria repeated the phrase, then after a long moment of studying the board, began to clear it. "You played well," she murmured, retrieving her black soldiers from where they stood stationed across the board in arrays he couldn't hope to discern the methods of (though he understood the purpose unfortunately well). "I wasn't sure that I'd won until we did the official count."

Following suit, Hikaru leaned forward and started plucking the white stones from the black. If Harria's stones were to be compared to foot soldiers, moving as a platoon and simulating rampart and vanguard both, then he liked to think of his stones as shinobi, scattered across the board in small but effective clusters where they laid in wait until they were given the order to strike.

"One moku," he complained just as he removed the last few stones from the board.

"One moku," Harria repeated, and anyone else would have missed the laughter buried in her tone, but not him. He heard it loud and clear.

"I hate you so much right now," he told her. It was a lie and they both knew it, but it made him feel a little better to say.

Harria laughed at him. "You'll get over it, just as you've gotten over the countless other times you've lost against me."

Okay, that? Thatwas unacceptable. "Ugh. You're such a sore winner," Hikaru complained as he stood. "I bet if any of your fangirls were to hear you now they'd die from shock."

A perfectly arched eyebrow was raised and Hikaru told himself that he was _not_ jealous of her admittedly awesome ability to move each brow independently. He also, pointedly, did not think about the many hours he'd spent in front of a mirror trying to achieve the same flexibility. To his never-ending disappointment, his eyebrows remained as unpliant as ever.

"Fangirls?" she asked, amused.

"Like Nase-san."

"And what about my fanboys?"

Hikaru's scowl was severe enough to forge permanent lines. "You don't have any," he said stubbornly.

She looked thoroughly entertained now, rounding the table so she was at his side. "Not even one?"

"No." He crossed arms his and stared her down, _daring_ her to contradict him.

"Is that so?" she purred, inching closer and angling her head so it was scant inches from the side of his face. A finger trailed up his cheek, leaving a streak of fire in its wake. Hikaru was too busy trying not to swallow his own tongue to ask what she was playing at. "And here I thought I had at least _one._ What a pity."

It took him a moment to register her words, and another to realize that she was referring to _him_. "Oi! I'm not a fanboy!" he snapped, capturing her evil, trouble-making hand with his. He opened his mouth to protest further—because he was _not_ a fanboy, no freaking way—when a firm press of lips landed on his own, searing a brand, and the words were extinguished on his tongue.

"Thanks for the game," she said, breath warm against his lips. Her eyes were dancing like firelight as she drew away, and Hikaru would swear he saw the iris flare with actual flames.

The noise level in the room had increased again, though what the ruckus was about now, he didn't know. Hikaru was too occupied by the lingering imprint of her kiss and the mesmerizing sway of her hips as she sauntered away to care.

Admittedly, he might have looked a bit like a besotted fanboy as he followed after her, or like the possessive puppy she sometimes insisted he was. Care, Hikaru did not—not with the memory of his first kiss, of _their_ first kiss, freshly new and replaying in his mind.

Somehow, his bitter defeat didn't feel so bitter anymore.

* * *

 

 

**[3]**

"So you've never met either of them before?" the guy pressed, oily features contorted in a scowl. "How is that possible? Surely you're having me on."

 _Because I haven't got better things to do with my time,_ Akira thought snidely as the other 4-dan (whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him despite the fact that they both became pro's at the same time) crowded into his personal space and continued to insinuate that Akira was lying.

Ever since the administrator had announced that the two semi-finalists had only become insei that year, everyone had started hounding him for information, even those who under normal circumstances didn't want anything to do with him. It was as if they all thought that prodigies (though Akira was reluctant to consider the two insei as such before he'd even seen them play) contained some kind of biological sensor that automatically detected the existence of others.

"I said I hadn't, didn't I? Now, if you'll excuse me," Akira said coolly, stepping around the guy and ignoring his incensed muttering about _asshole geniuses._

Right. Because _Akira_ was the one harassing people just before their matches and accusing them of being liars. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it weren't so annoying.

Just before Akira approached his designation he heard the unmistakable voice of Amano Shuichi, the primary reporter from _Go Weekly,_ call his name. With an inward groan he turned to face the man and plastered on a smile that belied just how frustrated he was.

Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone?

"Touya-kun, I'm so relieved I managed to catch you before your match," the man said with more joviality than Akira felt. "Would you mind terribly if I bothered you for a statement before your game?"

 _Yes,_ Akira thought, but he only forced his lips to stretch wider and shake his head. "Not at all, Amano-san, though the match will start soon so I won't have much time."

"It won't take longer than a minute or two," the man assured him. Usually, when reporters said 'only a minute' what they really meant was 'at the very least five,' but Amano tended to be an honorable man of his word, despite his profession. When he said _one minute_ he meant _one minute_ , in the same way that when he said _off the record_ whatever was stated never made it to print.

In a flash the man had a pen and notepad in his hands and gone was his typical amiable expression, replaced by what could only be interpreted as his 'reporter's face.'

"Have you met either of the semi-finalists before, Touya-kun?"

"No," Akira said, barely managing to restrain a sigh.

To Amano's credit, the man only nodded and moved on.

"What's your opinion on the sudden change in the arrangement of the tournament?"

_Unsurprised. Everyone knows the people who run this do whatever they want, either way._

"It's unconventional, but I suppose it's appropriate considering the unprecedented turnout. In any event, it has made things interesting."

After a moment of rapid scribbling, Amano asked, "According to my sources, Potter-san and Shindou-san entered the insei program in January and currently dominate the first and second seats of first class. This is the first official tournament they've participated in, and they've both made it to the semi-final round, which is rare for insei. How do you feel about that?"

Akira had already figured out that they must have skipped a class to be where they are now. It wasn't exactly unheard of, but if the rumors he heard were true and they'd done so without a single loss—except against each other—that was…

Determinedly, he squashed down the rush of excitement at the prospect of the insei really being as strong as everyone said. The last 'prodigy' the gossipmongers of the Go world insisted was going to be a challenge for Akira was Ochi Kousuke. And while Ochi was certainly a good player, prodigy he was not. He enjoyed playing him—despite the 3-dan's propensity for scowling—but he was not a challenge, and nor was he a threat.

Akira had never paid attention to rumors of upcoming prodigies again—a wise decision on his part since he'd yet to meet any—and he wouldn't allow himself to get his hopes up now. Not until he could determine with his own eyes that they were the real deal and not the products of a stagnant community's wishful thinking.

"It's certainly an accomplishment," Akira said after a pause, "as well as an indicator of their strength. I'm glad that two interesting players are entering the professional Go community and look forward to playing against them both."

Amano smiled knowingly. "Your opponent in the final round is Potter Harria, a sixteen year old girl who was born in England. How do you feel about that?"

"The same as I'd feel for any other opponent—excited," Akira stated firmly. There was a gleam in the reporter's eye and Akira knew that it was probably because that had been his most passionate response yet. It didn't matter; this was something Akira felt strongly about. "Gender and nationality is inconsequential. When you play a game, the only thing of true importance is your opponent's intelligence and strength, and both can be found in anyone."

"Could I interpret that to mean that you wish more females and non-nationals would enter the main league of the Japanese Go Association?"

"You can."

"Would you say that our community has become stagnant?" Amano asked with another predatory smile.

"I wouldn't say that," Akira chuckled, mask firmly back in place. "There are many exceptional players in our community, but there's nothing wrong with having more. And I think it's every Go player's wish to match themselves up against as many strong players as possible."

"Diplomatic as always." Amano shook his head ruefully as he flipped his notepad shut, capped his pen, and tucked both into his pocket. "I think I've taken up enough of your time, however. Thank you for consideration, Touya-kun, and best of luck in your upcoming match."

"Thank you, Amano-san." After a small bow Akira turned and quickly made it to his station before anyone else decided they wanted to pull him aside for a chat. A glance to his watch revealed that there was still ten minutes to the match, to his relief. It would give him a few moments to collect himself before the game.

* * *

 

 

**[4]**

As soon as Akira slid into his seat his opponent made her appearance—with the other insei, Shindou Hikaru, in tow—and without looking at him, pulled out the chair and dropped into it in a manner that Akira's mother would have found appalling. His opponent—Potter Harria, he reminded himself, and what a strange name that was—was practically sprawling. She had shifted the chair around so the back faced the table and her legs straddled the seat. It wasn't very ladylike, admittedly, but she certainly looked comfortable with her arms folded beneath her chin and her eyes closed in an illusion of sleep.

"I hate you," he heard Shindou say, and for a befuddled moment Akira thought he was talking to _him_ (it certainly wouldn't have been the first time a complete stranger said that to him, though it was usually where they thought he couldn't hear) but he reevaluated his assumption when the seated girl snorted and turned her head up to look at the boy.

"You're such a baby," she told him, and before the boy could respond she snaked her hand into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum.

Akira watched, wide-eyed, as the girl proceeded to unwrap her prize. With a smile that made heat rise to Akira's cheeks, she slowly, deliberately, fed the stick of gum into her mouth until she'd taken in the entire thing. When Akira glanced at the spluttering boy he wasn't at all surprised to find that his face was bright red. He had a glazed look in his eyes that made Akira look away in embarrassment.

 _Most probably dating, then,_ he thought, more than a little discomfited. He wished the two would refrain from making such displays in public. It was inappropriate, not to mention…awkward.

"I'm going to get something to drink," the boy gritted out. "If I don't get back before the game starts, you should know that I hope you lose horribly."

Rather than get offended, as Akira would have, the girl only shook her head and laughed. Shindou shot the girl a look that was one-part disgruntled and one-part fond, and walked away with an exasperated shake of his head. He disappeared into the thickening crowd soon after.

When Akira tore his gaze away from the boy's retreating back it was to find himself on the other end of gaze so intense it arrested the air from his lungs. Time seemed to crawl to a still as the greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen pinned him into place, and he swallowed against the sudden pressure he could feel closing in on him.

And then his opponent blinked, dispersing the tension, and a genial expression settled over a face that had previously been made of stone.

Akira felt even more disoriented when her mouth turned up in a smile and she greeted him cheerfully with, "Hello. Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, that was pretty rude of me, wasn't it? Anyway, I'm Potter Harria. Nice to meet you, Touya-san."

"It's…quite alright," Akira frowned and shook his head, as if to ward away a bad memory. He must have imagined the look she'd given him. She seemed perfectly normal now. Perhaps he should have listened to his mother and eaten breakfast after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Potter-san."

"I admit that I'm excited about this match," the girl said, burying the lower half of her face behind her arms. Surprisingly, her voice remained clear. "Hikaru and I have seen several of your kifu and I've got to say, you're an impressive player. Hikaru is upset that he won't get to play you."

 _Which certainly explains his earlier comment,_ Akira thought even as he struggled to figure out what her angle was. In his experience, players his age tended to fall into two categories: those who didn't want to play against him because they were intimidated, and those who wanted to defeat him as a matter of pride. Players who wanted to play against him for the sake of having a satisfying match were almost exclusive to the older pro's, and even then they were few and far between. Most either felt threatened about the 'upstart' or disregarded him completely because of his age.

That being the case, it was understandable that he felt dubious about the sincerity of her claim, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn't detect even an iota of deceit, and Akira liked to think that he was quite adept at that particular skill.

When he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and take her for her word, he found himself feeling almost relieved. It wasn't often that his opponent neither hated nor feared him, and Akira would enjoy the respite while it lasted.

"I'm looking forward to our match, as well," he said after a moment, perhaps awkwardly. There was nothing to be done for it, though—he was introverted by nature and social exchange had never come easily to him, especially when it involved small talk. Let Akira talk about Go and he'd likely talk someone's ear off, but tell him to hold an unrelated conversation and he'd flounder like an eel on a dock.

"You're rather awkward, aren't you? I wasn't expecting that," Potter said, eyeing him with open curiosity. Then, before Akira could retort—because pointing out such a thing was _incredibly_ _rude_ even if it was true—she lifted her head and said, "I wasn't insulting you. Nothing wrong with being awkward."

Akira's justified protest died on his tongue at her earnest assurance, as did anything else he might have said. How was he supposed to respond to that? Arguing further would just be petty, and thanking her was out of the question. Intentional or not, her lack of tact had still been rude.

She seemed to understand some of his dilemma and only offered him a brief grin before turning her head to the side, not in nonchalance but in expectancy. Akira followed her gaze and quickly spotted her friend Shindou (he was, admittedly, rather hard to miss) making his way towards them with a bottle of soda in one hand.

"These people are like hyenas," he loudly complained as he approached, gesturing with his thumb to the ever-growing crowd behind them. "Seriously, what part of 'no, I do not want to answer your nosy questions now get out of my face before I get a restraining order,' do they not understand? I thought I was going to have to do something drastic."

An undignified snorting sound came from Potter just before she ducked her head into the crook of her arms. Her shoulders were shaking with undeniable laughter and she was making these odd hiccoughing sounds that were completely at odds with the impression she'd given him.

Then again, she did that a lot. The moment Akira thought he had her character pinned down she'd do, or say, something to make him reexamine her.

She was intelligent, that much was clear, and she had an air about her that spoke of maturity and eyes that were perhaps a little too perceptive. She was blunt, saying what she wanted without the expected censorship, but she didn't seem malicious. Ostentatious clothing aside, she was unobtrusive for the most part—with languid movements and a quiet voice.

Rude, but not cruel. Honest, but not open. Had ancient eyes, yet she smiled like a trickster and giggled like a child.

In short, Akira had no idea what to make of her. She wasn't like anyone he had ever met before, and Akira, perhaps presumptuously, had thought he'd seen it all—at least, in terms of Go players. His faulty appraisal made him uncomfortable and he hoped he'd be able to get a better grasp of her character when he saw her Go. There, at least, she could not hide herself.

Eventually, Potter lifted her head and wiped at her eyes. "I would have paid you to do that. Oh, their expressions would have been priceless."

"Laugh it up, alien-chan. You won't find it so funny when it's _your_ turn to be mobbed."

 _Alien-chan?_ Akira wondered. What a weird nickname. Perhaps it was a couple thing. If so, he hoped any future partner of his would refrain from calling him something so inane. Their relationship likely wouldn't last long otherwise.

"I'm sure I won't be such a baby about it, though," she said dryly. Then before the boy could get a word in edgewise, interrupted with, "Quit being so rude and introduce yourself to Touya-san already, Hikaru. I know I taught you better than that."

The boy started in surprise and glanced at Akira as if he had only just realized he was there. Akira inwardly bristled with affront even though he got the impression that Shindou rarely noticed anyone else when Potter Harria was in the same room.

"Huh? Oh, right. Sorry, man. I'm Shindou Hikaru. Nice to finally meet you. By the way, please do me a favor and win, alright? She needs to get taken down a peg or two."

Potter muttered something along the lines of ' _not strong enough to do it yourself, huh?'_ but Shindou pointedly ignored her, his gaze remaining fixed on Akira, waiting.

"Nice to meet you, too?" Akira said, inwardly wincing as it ended in a questioning lilt. "Um. I'll certainly play as I always do," he continued, not knowing what to say.

"Good enough, I guess," Shindou muttered, looking around. "What time is this round supposed to start again?"

"In one minute," Potter announced seemingly at random.

Akira glanced at his watch and shot her puzzled look when he realized she was right despite not having a watch on her and there being no clocks nearby. Potter caught his look and returned it with a mischievous one of her own. _Nuh-uh,_ her expression seemed to say. _Wouldn't you like to know?_

"Let me throw this out before the match starts," he sighed, shaking the empty bottle. "Holding this would get annoying, fast."

"What, you're not going to wish me good luck before you go?" Potter said with an exaggerated pout.

(Which Akira absolutely did _not_ find charming.)

"I told you that I hope Touya kicks your ass, didn't I?" Shindou reminded her even as he lifted his hand to tug at her ponytail. "Besides," he murmured, so softly Akira almost didn't catch it, "you hardly need it."

It dawned on Akira just then that none of the smiles Potter had offered him had been real.

The realization was oddly upsetting. As he watched Potter follow Shindou's departure with fond eyes, he felt the familiar weight of _loneliness_ settle in the pit of his stomach. Akira didn't have anything like that—no friends to joke with or wish him luck, no significant other to offer unfaltering support; no one. Even his family didn't compare, and though they loved him and were keenly proud, it simply wasn't the same.

Some would argue that he had an entire community supporting his progress, but that did nothing to dampen his loneliness. If anything, their sycophantic behavior only made it worse. They smiled and conveyed words of encouragement to his face but glared and spread gossip the moment he turned his back—and sometimes not even then.

 _I don't need anybody,_ was the mantra he repeated to himself whenever he saw friends laughing over a goban or coming to watch a game in support, even as his eyes gleamed with a covetousness that shamed him. For no matter how many times or how many ways he said it, it was a lie. He was human, despite what some people said about him, and he needed companionship, he needed _intimacy_ , just like anyone else.

People weren't meant to be alone.

Not that he had much of a choice. He'd learned a long time ago that there was somethinginherently _wrong_ with him, something that put people off and drove them away. Even as a child he'd never managed to make friends, no matter how polite or friendly he'd been. There were some who had stuck around out of curiosity, or pity, but never for long. In the end, Akira was always left alone, waterproof against the deluge of people around him.

He eventually reached a point where he got tired of picking himself apart to find the source of his wrongness and deemed it a pointless endeavor that wasted his time.

He stopped trying to make friends. He stopped pretending to be someone he wasn't. He stopped putting his effort into anything unrelated to Go.

Years later, he still wasn't sure if his choice to keep the world at arm's length had been his wisest decision or his stupidest mistake.

A prickling sensation erupted against the side of his face and Akira forced the morose thoughts away with a metaphorical fly swatter and turned his head. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find that Potter was staring at him, though it _was_ shocking that she didn't look away when he caught her. Apparently she just didn't care.

"Aquamarine," she said suddenly.

Akira looked at her in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Your eyes," she elaborated, still staring. "When the light hits them just so they become aquamarine."

Akira had the strangest urge to hide his eyes from her. "I see," he said cautiously, even though he really, truly did not.

"I don't dream often," she continued blithely, "but I had one last night. Would you like to know what it was about? I'll tell you anyway. I was watching myself enter a room that was completely bare except for this large platform at the center. On it were four gemstones—shaped like Go stones, incidentally. The stones were different variations of beryl—morganite, heliodor, goshenite, and aquamarine respectively—and for some reason I had to choose two. Any more or less would have prevented me from leaving the room.

"I chose heliodor first, but that was an easy choice even though I didn't know why at the time. The second stone was much harder to choose. Even though I initially decided to take the morganite stone because of its name, my eyes kept drifting to the aquamarine one. I'd start to reach for the morganite and would find my hand hovering over the other one. There was just something about it that _drew_ me to it. Eventually I gave in and picked it up and…the feeling of _rightness_ that settled over me when I held the heliodor and aquamarine stones in my palms chased me to the waking world, it was that potent.

"Your eyes look like rings carved from that same stone. Peculiar, isn't it?"

Akira stared at her speechlessly, not at all sure how he should respond, or if he should at all. To his relief Potter didn't look like she expected one (though he really wished she would stop staring at him like that), so he said nothing, opting instead to turn over what she had said.

Was there some kind of hidden double meaning there, or was it simply nonsensical rambling he ought to overlook? Likely the latter, he decided, losing the battle and looking away. Potter's stare felt like being caught in the headlights of an approaching truck.

"I've made you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention," she said.

"No, it's fine," he muttered, so as not to be rude.

He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she said, "You shouldn't say things you don't mean, Touya-san."

Before Akira could form some semblance of a reply the proctor finally, _finally_ arrived and started his lengthy introductory speech. Akira tuned out most of it, having heard it several times before, and continued to contemplate what Potter had told him. It was perhaps unwise of him to waste time trying to rationalize a story so inane, yet he couldn't stop himself from trying to pick it apart.

For some reason he felt as if what she'd said had been _important_. Why, he didn't know.

Absently, Akira wondered if distracting him at the start of the game had been her intent all along. She should feel proud, if it were.

"Please," he heard Potter say, her voice drawing him from the maelstrom of his thoughts.

Akira closed his eyes and simply breathed, allowing his mind to clear of unwanted clutter and the world to fade into the background, far beyond the reach of his eyes and ears. The moment a hushed calm settled over him and his mental perception narrowed and shifted, he opened his eyes.

Suddenly, Potter's emerald gaze didn't feel so unsettling anymore.

"Please," Akira repeated.

The sound of rustling stones filled his ears as Potter's hand reached into the go-ke and she retrieved a single black stone. She paused, then placed it on the star at the upper left corner. There was a clicking sound, indicating that the timer had been reset, and Akira reached into the go-ke of white stones and pulled one out. It was cool to touch.

After a moment of careful deliberation, he set it on the lower-left star and studied his opponent to see how she'd respond.

* * *

 

 

**[5]**

If Akira had to sum up Potter Harria's Go in a single word, it would be _frightening_.

The sheer amount of pressure she was putting on him was mindboggling, and only years of practiced stoicism kept his face from reflecting his mental strain.

They had just reached _yose_ and Akira could not determine who was in the lead. Potter had wrangled it early on with a ferociousness that he had not counted on and it had taken every ounce of his concentration to keep her from getting too far ahead. It wasn't until _chuban_ that Akira had been able to even the game, but maintaining the equilibrium had not been easy.

Potter pushed him at every turn. Every inch of territory Akira gained had been hard-won against her literal army of stones. All across the goban were black clusters situated in arrays that seemed random at first, but were anything but. Twice Akira had lost large sections of stones because he couldn't understand the importance of Potter's intricate arrangements before it was too late.

Her vicious offense wasn't the only thing he had to worry about, either. Her defense was nearly _inviolable._ At times, Akira felt like he was slamming against a mountain just to break through her carefully constructed defense. Her little stone foot soldiers protected her territories with a vehemence that Akira felt keenly, and when he did manage to force his way through, it was never without causalities.

Suffice to say, it was _exhilarating_.

Akira could not remember the last time he had struggled so hard against an opponent. The older pro's didn't count—they had decades of experience on him, to start with, and though it was rude to think, they were _old_. Most of them had already reached the pinnacle of their strength and it was only a matter of time before Akira overpowered them. In this, Akira's youth was in his favor.

Potter Harria was _his_ age. She still had decades to become stronger. And if _this_ was her strength at sixteen…Akira shivered at the thought of how strong she'd be in years to come.

A rival. Someone to compete with. Someone who would challenge him. Someone who would _force_ him to improve simply because he couldn't afford not to. Someone who stood at his level and walked the same path as him as they fought their way to the top.

Akira had always wanted someone like that, and now, he desperately wanted it to be _her_.

Teal eyes narrowed as Potter placed a black stone below the midstar, connecting the cluster there and increasing her territory in the process. He'd known it would happen, but it was a calculated risk. While Potter was incredibly adept at reading ahead, everything hinged on him being able to read further than she could…or at the very least, her not being able to see the trap he'd set up until it was too late.

Several hands passed and stones continued to eat up what little inhabitable space was left on the board. They had a short but vicious battle for the territory on the lower-right corner when she'd attempted a _hane_ , which he'd swiftly followed with a cross-cut and she, rather than play a _tenuki_ as normal people would have, proceeded to connect her stones with a _kosumi-tsuke_. What followed was a brutal _ko_ -battlethat Potter won when she'd strategically backed him into a corner by turning his most recent stone into an _urgent point_ and he'd been forced to abandon his stones and retreat.

He lost the cluster, and now Potter was firmly in the lead.

A bead of sweat trickled down his brow as he scanned the board—the only indication that he was not nearly as collected as he looked. His eyes searched for possible openings he could push and weaknesses he could take advantage of, all while being mindful of any traps hidden in the many throngs of stones. Meanwhile, he waited for the opportune moment to set his plan into motion. All he needed was Potter to take the bait.

He managed to protect the left border from a crafty assault, though only just, and was in the process of trying to wrest territory from the bottom edge when Potter finally, _finally_ made the move he'd been waiting for.

She cut off his advancement with a well-executed _atari,_ which was exactly what he wanted. Akira reached into the go-ke quickly and connected his white to her black, _countering it,_ and he breathed an inward sigh of relief when the pattern he'd been aiming for came to life like a towering white loess and sectioned off the black stones within, capturing them. To his relief, there were several.

With grim satisfaction, Akira looked up to see how his opponent would react. He noted that while her face was as blank as the surface of the stone she was gripping, her eyes were _blazing_ , like living flame encased within a sphere of emerald.

She must have felt him staring at her because she looked up, and Akira could read the message in her eyes loud and clear: _I'll make you pay for that. This isn't over_.

It should have terrified him, but instead, Akira felt only anticipation.

If he had his way, it would _never_ be over.

Potter continued to scrutinize the board, no doubt looking for anywhere she could push, overwhelm, destroy. She exhaled softly and, after leaning into her seat, returned her stone to the bowl, obviously having found none. To be fair, Akira couldn't find anything, either. There simply weren't any feasible places to move—none that wouldn't result in senseless suicide, anyway.

"Time."

Akira startled at the loud rasp of the administrator's voice. He blinked, disoriented, as the bubble he'd been enclosed in popped and the world contracted in a rush. Sounds and sights and smells he'd been previously distanced from came flooding back, and for an aching moment he was almost dizzy from the return of so much awareness. He shook his head to clear the buzzing in his ears and returned his attention to the game.

Who had won?

With more calm than the situation warranted, Akira started to count, trying to determine the definite territory. Usually a single glance would allow for an estimation, but their game had been one of many small to mid-sized battles, not large ones, and there was very little organization to be found.

"If you take the _komi_ into account, black wins by half a moku," he heard his opponent mutter just as he'd reached the same conclusion.

He had lost _._

He had _lost._

"And black wins by half a moku!" the proctor announced to the hall. Any other time Akira would have laughed at how flustered the man sounded, but he found he couldn't quite bring himself to.

He had lost.

"The winner of the 36th annual Young Lion's Tournament is insei, Potter Harria. Congratulations, Potter-san!"

Potter didn't look like she was paying attention to a word the proctor was saying. She was still studying the board with a look Akira was more than familiar with—like she was searching for that _one move_ that could have made more of a difference, and it was hidden in the labyrinthine patterns on the board just out of sight, and reach, and understanding.

It was the ultimate move referred to as the Hand of God, and something in his chest loosened at the realization that Potter might be looking for it, too.

After a long moment she said, "Thanks for the game," and bowed. Her smile, while wry, was the most honest he had seen when not directed at Shindou.

He ignored the fluttering warmth that spread through his chest and repeated the words with a bow slightly deeper than hers had been and, while not exactly a smile, something that might have been construed as a ghost of one. Akira might have lost, but…it had been an excellent game, and he felt privileged to have played it. In comparison, both his pride and the maintenance of his winning streak amounted to very little.

"It was a good game," Potter told him as she folded her arms. "A brilliant game. I knew you were good, but I wasn't expecting _that_. Thank you."

"Likewise," Akira said. "I—"

"I hate you so much," a familiar voice cut in from behind him, and Akira craned his head to see Shindou Hikaru approaching them, arms crossed behind his head. "Man, this isn't _fair_."

"What was that? Oh, you're congratulating me on the game? Why, thank you, Hikaru, I really appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Whatever. You won by _half_ a moku. That hardly counts."

"I think I see some projection taking place here."

Akira had to hold his breath to keep from snorting at the affronted look Shindou gave her.

"Come on, let's go before the shock wears off and we get mobbed. The faster we get the ceremony over with the faster we can go home and eat." He placed a hand over his stomach and whined, "I'm so hungry I think I might actually die."

"Hold your horses, you glutton," Potter said with a roll of her eyes. She turned to Akira, who'd been dutifully clearing out the board, and surprised him by saying, "Hey, Touya-san, would you like to meet up and discuss the game sometime? We could have a rematch, too, if you want."

The stone he'd been holding fell with a clatter and he stared up at the girl in surprise. Was she serious? No one _ever_ wanted to play against him outside of an official capacity, except perhaps his father, Ogata, and Ashiwara. And rarely did anyone want him hanging around when his presence wasn't required, aforementioned trio once again exempted.

That being the case, Akira didn't understand why she'd want to. Perhaps she wanted to rub in her win? But no, he thought, scrutinizing her. There was only genuine interest in her gaze, and he suspected none of it was feigned.

"You're under no obligation, obviously, but Hikaru and I would appreciate it nonetheless. _Right, Hikaru?_ "

At the mention of her friend, Akira's eyes flickered towards Shindou (and Akira realized with belated excitement that he had only lost to Potter by _one_ _moku_ ) who was draped over her shoulder like a limpet, chin propped up on the crown of her head.

The boy's eyes narrowed as he studied him, and Akira was almost certain he would say otherwise. Steeling himself, Akira opened his mouth to politely refuse. He knew from experience that it was better to fake disinterest than show the opposite and be humiliatingly turned down.

Before he could get the words out Shindou's expression shifted into something calculating, then accepting, and he slowly nodded his head.

"Sure. I still haven't played against you, right? Should be fun." He pulled away from Potter and stepped to the side, then glanced to her.

Akira watched with no small amount of jealousy as they had the kind of silent conversation he often saw his parents have but had never been privy to.

Potter looked positively pleased when Shindou looked away with a roll of his eyes.

"So?" he said, turning to him. "You in?"

Akira hesitated. He wanted to, desperately, but he felt that familiar twinge in the pit of his stomach that made itself known every time he even thought about _trying_ to befriend people. It was self-preservation, he knew, with a considerable amount of anxiety mixed in.

Go prodigy he might have been, but at being social Akira was a _failure._ There was no other way to put it. He doubted this venture would end any differently from the many others before it. He had nothing to gain from putting himself out there, except an addition to his collection of disappointments.

 _But what do you have to lose?_ A traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered.

The answer was simple: not much.

 _You're making this more difficult than it needs to_ be, he told himself. _You'll be discussing a game of Go with your peers, nothing more, nothing less. This will be no different from any of the study sessions you've been to. Don't make a big deal out of this, Akira._

With a determined breath, Akira nodded to the insei. "Yes. That would be acceptable. I…would like the opportunity to discuss the match with you very much."

"And play," Shindou perked up.

"Y-yes, if time allows it."

"It will," Shindou said, confidently.

"Right…"

"And now that _that's_ settled," Potter cut in, standing. She pulled out a sleek black cellphone and gave Akira an expectant look. "Cellphone number, Touya-kun?"

Akira noted the change in suffix. Shindou's twitch indicated that he had, as well.

"Um," Akira rattled off his number feeling somewhat dazed. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket not soon after, and patted it self-consciously.

"Great. Add me to your contacts, yeah?" She glanced at Shindou and said, "Hikaru, I'm forwarding you Touya's number, save it. Yes, now, you lazy bum." She turned to Akira again. "Hope you don't mind. Anyway, I'll send you a text message tonight so we can work out the details. Oh, or would you prefer for me to call you instead?"

"Texting is fine," he said slowly.

"Texting it is. And ah, would you look at that, it seems the observers have finally gotten over their shock. That is our cue to split." She grabbed Hikaru's hand in hers and wiggled her fingers. "It was really nice to meet you, Touya-kun. We'll probably bump into each other later, but if not, talk to you tonight!"

"Yeah, bye," Shindou said distractedly, eyeing the approaching crowd with distaste.

"Potter-san," a woman called, striding towards them. The greedy glint in her eye practically screamed _reporter._ "Would you mind taking a moment to—"

"Sorry, but I've really got to use the toilet," she said, not sparing her a glance. Potter winked at him, glanced at Hikaru, and after a nod, literally bolted past the woman and into the throng of observers.

Akira could hear exclamations of "Sorry, can't talk, gotta go to the restroom," and "Hey, those are new shoes, watch it," over the raucousness of the crowd, and couldn't hold back a snort. The two of them were nothing at all like Go players should be—not in attire, not in manner, not in speech, and certainly not in behavior.

He was honest enough with himself to admit that it was somewhat refreshing.

With that thought in mind, Akira plastered on a placid smile and turned to the people who were very nearly salivating at the thought of questioning him. While two insei could certainly get away from it, Akira, as a seasoned pro, was not so fortunate.

And yet…if Potter had taken his hand like she had Shindou's and dared him to run, Akira didn't think he would have said no.

He felt oddly disappointed that he hadn't even been given a choice.

* * *

 

 

**[6]**

"I'm so tired," Hikaru yawned before crushing his face into his pillow. _Harria's pillow,_ he corrected after taking a deep whiff. He burrowed further into it to chase the pleasant smell of the shampoo she liked to use.

"I am too, so scoot over." Without waiting for a reply she shoved Hikaru to the other side of the bed and sank into the mattress with a sigh. "Mm. Your mom outdid herself. I haven't eaten that much in ages."

"She's been going overboard with the meals lately," he commented absently, eyes trained on the freckle he could see poking out of the edge of her tank top strap. It was a tease, flaunting itself one moment then hiding itself the next. Whenever he saw it he had to restrain himself from doing something worthy of a restraining order. He didn't dare even press his fingers against the little fleck in case his brain short-circuited and his tongue decided to taste it without his permission.

It was nothing he hadn't dreamed about before.

Forcefully tearing his gaze away, Hikaru looked up to see Harria staring at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. He made a face at her, and she retaliated by ruffling his hair hard enough to drive his face into the pillow.

Harria ignored his glare and scooted close enough that their shoulders brushed and their heads were only a splayed-hand's width apart. At her proximity, he felt his disgruntlement fade away, replaced by the familiar warmth that came from being so close to her. He reveled in it.

His thoughts retrograded to the conversation they'd had earlier, and the hope it had given him, and later the kiss. Hikaru wasn't unaware of how strange their relationship was—they were far closer than people not dating had any right to be. And yet, she'd never taken it to that level before, proven by the tingling sensation he could still feel even hours later. He resisted the urge to touch his lips and replicate the pressure, knowing it wouldn't be the same.

After a moment of relishing in the memory he found his thoughts wandering to the only real snag of an otherwise perfect day (him losing his match notwithstanding): Touya Akira.

Hikaru glanced at Harria, who was currently absorbed in the hand-drawn kifu she'd made of her match against Touya, and frowned. He would've had to have been blind to not notice her interest in the other boy. Hikaru could count on one hand the number of people she took the initiative to get close to and he'd still have three fingers left over. Despite her blatant friendliness, Harria simply wasn't the sociable type. In all the years he'd known her, she only really interacted with him and Sai. Even his mother fell into the category of acquaintances, and Harria practically lived under her roof!

So when Harria actively sought to gain someone's attention, Hikaru noticed. And she'd definitely been trying to draw Touya Akira into her fold.

 _Why_ was the elusive question. Hikaru wondered what it was about him that caught her interest, and he was honest enough to admit that it made him uneasy. A thought flashed through his head that she was interested in him in a _romantic_ way, but he strung it up and beat it away like the criminal it was.

Harria wouldn't. Harria _couldn't_. Right?

Torn between wanting to ask her and wanting to deny anything out of the ordinary had happened, Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed his face further into the pillow. Of course Harria noticed, and of course she asked him what was wrong, and Hikaru found himself blurting the question before he could capture the words.

"Why were you so interested in Touya?" he asked, wincing when it came out more like a demand. Harria, thankfully, didn't get upset by his tone.

"I dreamt about him," she admitted after a moment, eyes locked on the notebook in her hand.

Hikaru felt something cold settle into his stomach at her admission.

"You—" he fumbled.

"Yeah. You know I don't dream often, but I had one of him. Well," she enunciated slowly, "sort of. Not him _per se_ , but the color of his eyes."

Hikaru welcomed the confusion caused by her less-than-coherent explanation. It was a far cry better than the fear. "You want to get to know him because you had a dream about his eyes?" he asked dubiously.

"Not his eyes," she corrected, glancing at him for the first time. Her brows were furrowed in thought. "The color. In my dream I had to choose between four types of stones otherwise something…unpleasant would have happened. I think. Anyway, the first stone I chose was heliodor, like the color of your eyes," she trailed off, fully staring at him now. "And the other stone…well, I felt _compelled_ to choose it, too. It was aquamarine, the exact same shade of Touya's eyes."

She shrugged. "That has to mean something. Of course, it's not the only reason I want to befriend him. He…feels important, somehow. He—"

Whatever she'd been about to say was interrupted by knocking. They both turned their heads just as the bedroom door was pushed open and Hikaru's mother stepped through. That she spared the two teenagers nothing more severe than a frown despite the fact that they were laying so close together on _Hikaru's bed_ spoke volumes of how accustomed she was to their…them-ness.

"Yes, mom?" Hikaru groused, irritated that their conversation had been interrupted.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, dear," Mitsuko said. "Would you like me to make you a snack? I could make dango if you're still hungry…"

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "We're fine, mom. Dinner was more than enough."

"Well, if you're sure…"

" _Goodnight_ , mom," Hikaru said with a pointed look at the door.

Mitsuko hesitated, then shot her a son a small smile and reached for the doorknob. She offered a brief nod to Harria before she left the room and closed the door behind her. Hikaru listened for her muffled footsteps until they disappeared down the stairs.

His exasperated exhale sent tufts of his bangs flying. "I have no idea what's going on with that woman," he said, shaking his head. "She's been downright _clingy_ lately. I mean, _snacks_? I'm sixteen, not five."

"She's trying to prove something to you."

Hikaru turned to her with raised brows. "What?"

"Your mom. She realizes you're growing up and distancing yourself from her. Everything she's been doing lately—cooking all of your favorites, checking up on you, trying to help with your forms and appointments—it's her way of trying to prove to you that she's still useful, and that you still need her. She's scared that you're leaving her behind."

Hikaru's mouth had fallen open throughout her explanation. "W-what? But, how do you—" He caught sight of Harria's quirked eyebrow and swallowed. "Right. You're a nine-hundred year old magical alien. Of course you know."

Harria rolled her eyes, but Hikaru was too busy turning over what she had said to mind. Was that really why his mother had become so _clingy_ lately? Because he was growing up? But that didn't make sense. _Of course_ he didn't need her as much anymore. What did she expect? For him to stay a child forever?

"It's hard to understand when you don't have children yourself," she said suddenly, further cementing his belief that she could in fact read minds despite her claim otherwise. "In most cases, parents spend nearly two decades providing everything for their children. To go from being completely dependent upon to not needed at all…it's not an easy transition to make. Shindou-san is likely trying to stave off what she feels to be inevitable."

"That's… _stupid_. Of course I'm not just going to _abandon_ her or something. I mean, I have to grow up sometime, but I won't just completely forget she exists! Seriously, who does that?"

"More people than you realize," Harria muttered, ruffling his hair again. "Maybe you should make more of an effort to show her that since she clearly doesn't realize it. It might make her less…clingy, as well."

Hikaru groaned. "Why do people always have to complicate things?"

"I've been asking myself that for nearly a millennia and have yet to figure it out," Harria said dryly.

Hikaru shot her a withering look, ignored her responding grin, and flopped his head onto his pillow with a sigh. Now, on top of everything else on his shoulders, he had to deal with his paranoid, needy mother, too. He was _not_ looking forward to trying to convince her. Her fussiness was driving him crazy as it was.

"Don't think I've forgotten about our previous conversation," he said suddenly.

Harria pursed her lips and peered at him over the rim of her reading glasses ( _"I don't need them, but I like wearing them,"_ she had once explained). "What more is there to say? Touya's interesting and I want to befriend him."

Sighing, she snapped her book shut, removed her glasses, and dropped both onto the bedside table before she unfurled the covers at the foot of the bed and tossed it over them. "Just trust me, Hikaru. I have a feeling about him, and you know I'm usually right when it comes to those. He's going to be important to us. I can tell. Now _come on_. We've got to get up stupidly early tomorrow." She waited for Hikaru to shift into a comfortable position then muttered, " _Nox_."

As the lights dimmed around them, Hikaru continued to contemplate her words. He knew exactly how reliable those _feelings_ of hers were—they'd helped him out more times than he could count. That being the case, Hikaru supposed there was nothing he could do but go along with it. Nothing would keep Harria from pursuing something once her mind was set and arguing about it would only be a waste of breath.

 _Besides_ , he thought, turning to his side and clutching his pillow tighter. There was nothing precisely offensive about Touya. He was a bit too…stiff, but not in the weird way that Ochi guy was. Hikaru couldn't see what was so interesting about him, though. Aside from his admittedly spectacular Go, he was kind of boring.

But Harria had asked him to trust her, so despite whatever reservations he had, he would.

"Stop thinking so much," Harria murmured sleepily. Warm legs found his and tangled together, and Hikaru felt his self-restraint disintegrate as he reeled her in so close their noses nearly brushed and he could almost taste the mint on her breath. "He'll be good for us, somehow. He'll fill the hole Sai left behind. Promise."

Hikaru stiffened and readied himself to protest, but it was too late. She'd already drifted off, her breath evening and features slackening in sleep. Whatever arguments or denial he felt were warranted would have to wait until the morning.

Unnerved and disgruntled, Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to lose the ache her final words had left to the simplicity of dreams.

Unfortunately, sleep was long to come.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Touya Akira has finally made his appearance. Took him long enough! My gosh, but I love that boy. ♥
> 
> Anyway, in regards to the _Harria vs. Akira_ match, I experimented with using actual game plays but yeah, I don't think I'm going to do that again. So games will be strictly vague from now on since I really have no business detailing a game I know very little about.
> 
>  
> 
>  **TERMS:** **#-dan** – refers to pro ranks, 1-dan being the lowest and 9-dan being the highest | **Insei** – certified _go_ apprentice | **Goban** – _go_ board | **Go-ke** – bowl that holds _go_ stones | **Kifu** – game records | **Moku** – game points | **Nigiri** – pre-game procedure that determines who plays first | **Komi** \- compensation points, since black has the advantage of going first | **Fuseki** – beginning of game| **Chuuban** – midgame | **Yose** – endgame  
>   
>  **PLAYS: Ko** _–_ a position wherein single stones could be captured back and forth indefinitely | **Hane** – a single stone that 'reaches around' the outside of an opposing unit diagonally, adjacent but unconnected to an existing unit | **Tenuki** – denotes playing elsewhere, especially breaking off from a sequence that remains to be resolved | **Kosumi-Tsuke** – diagonal attachment | **Kyuba** – urgent point | **Atari** – the state of a stone or unit that has only one liberty


	5. Shift

 

**[1]**

 

_April._

There were few places Akira was comfortable enough to lower several layers of the mask he constantly wore, and his family's Go parlor, the _Heart of Stone_ , was one of them. Not only were the people in charge mindful of his privacy, but the customers were, as well. Their consideration of him was genuine, and the way they looked out for him was the sole reason he could bring himself to relax despite the social setting.

While bad for business, those who hounded or blabbered about him to the media rarely found themselves welcomed back. It was why Akira was willing to play against the regulars even though their strength was leagues beneath his—the time lost was a small price to pay for the fraction of security and support they readily offered him.

Four days after the Young Lion's Tournament found the _Heart of Stone_ in a rare state of emptiness. As much as liked the customers, being in the presence of so many people often overwhelmed him. The present quiet was something he relished in—or at least it _was_ until the conversation being held at his table descended into loud squabbling, successfully ruining the atmosphere.

Exasperated, Akira refocused his attention onto the current… _discussion_.

"I still think it was a silly move," Ashiwara was arguing, pointing to the stone on the upper-left side of the goban. On it was a recreated game between Kuwabara-Honinbou and Sanada 9-dan from the previous day. It had been an intelligent game, if a bit rigid. Kuwabara and Sanada were both elderly players, so Akira supposed that was to be expected.

"I'm not refuting that," Ogata said, tapping the edge of his cigarette so the cinders fell into a ceramic-white ashtray, "but it _could_ have been an exceptional move if Sanada had been able to read far enough ahead. The move had a lot of potential; it was the player who lacked the foresight to implement it."

"I suppose," Ashiwara said grudgingly, prompting Ogata to roll his eyes.

Akira bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting at the two. The way they bickered, not unlike an old married couple, never failed to amuse him. Even Akira, as socially inept as he was, could see that they were fond of one another. The problem was that they were both too stubborn to admit it, let alone act on it.

"But what if Sanada had moved here?" Ashiwara asked, indicating the star three spaces above the problem stone. "Don't you think that would have been a better move?"

Ogata opened his mouth to respond, but fell silent as the chimes that hung above the front door tinkled and a flood of frigid air surged into the salon, slicing through the artificial heat like a scalpel to skin. Shivering from the sudden onslaught, Akira instinctively craned his head towards the door. When two _very_ familiar figures stepped through the threshold, he felt himself freeze.

"Is that?" Ashiwara started.

"It is," Ogata said. "Well, this is certainly a surprise."

Silently, Akira eyes tracked the two figures as they approached the front desk, where the manager, Matsumi Fumiko, sat. Words, followed by money, was exchanged, and in a movement that caught Akira off guard, Matsumi suddenly nodded and pointed in _their_ direction. The two insei looked over and he knew the exact moment they were spotted. Potter Harria's lips curled in slow grin when their gazes met. After stripping out of their coats and surrendering them to Matsumi, the two made a beeline for Akira's table.

The butterflies that erupted in Akira's stomach whenever he thought about Potter lately (which was more often than he'd like, especially as she made it a habit to text him several times a day) made themselves known, but he forced them down.

 _She's dating Shindou_ , Akira reminded himself for what felt like the millionth time that week, even as he noted how arresting she looked with her cheeks flushed pink and her hair wild with dark, windswept curls.

Potter wasn't pretty in the conventional sense, but she was _striking_ , all porcelain skin and jewel-bright eyes and charcoal hair. She had sharp features that were softened by feminine curves and a presence that commanded attention; demanded it. The silver bands that lined her ears from lobe to tip, and the strange designs that covered her arms like sleeves, only helped add an edge of mystery to her person. It all culminated to a visage, an impression, that stole the breath from Akira's lungs and, more notably, the logic from his mind.

"Akira-kun," Potter greeted. Her voice sounded softer than it did over the phone—huskier. The way her eyes remained solely on him, as if he were the only one in the room, distracted him enough that he lost control over the accursed butterflies he was desperately trying to keep at bay.

How was it that a girl he'd known for less than a week could bring about so much emotional turmoil? He hadn't known crushes could be so…all-encompassing. So distracting and confusing. If someone had told him, perhaps he would have tried harder to curb the attraction before it started taking over his senses and rearranging his insides. Before it had gotten out of hand.

One week and she was already occupying a considerable portion of his thoughts and making him think, making him _act_ , irrationally. He didn't want to consider what would become of him in the upcoming weeks, if he was lucky, and months if he wasn't.

"Potter-san…" Akira's mouth snapped shut at the unimpressed stare his politeness earned. For days she had been coaxing him to use her given name, emphasizing her intention by using his own, but the intimacy of the gesture made him feel embarrassed. Forcing down a blush he hoped wasn't noticeable, he amended, "H-Harria-san…um, Harria-chan? Right…uh, if I may ask, what are you doing here? I thought you and Shindou-san weren't coming until next Saturday. Did I get the date wrong or—"

"Relax, Akira-kun," she laughed. Her eyes glittered beneath the fluorescent lighting. Or perhaps it was her amusement that caused it. Akira hoped it was the former. "Hikaru and I were in the neighborhood so we thought we'd drop by, see if you were here. Hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not," he said, perhaps too quickly. It horrified him how easily his carefully constructed composure crumbled when he was around her. It was nothing like the phone conversations they had, where Akira could hide the obviousness of his growing attraction, and the consequential embarrassment, with a steady tone. Now, with the subject of his fixation directly in front of him, so close he could reach out and touch, he found it difficult to hide anything from her—as if her presence were a magnet pulling the secrets from his iron resolve.

Chastising himself for being so transparent, Akira's gaze skittered towards Shindou, who was frowning at him. With more hesitance than he'd greeted Harria with, he said, "Shindou-san. It's nice to see you again."

No response came. Shindou simply stared at him, his eyes narrowed and sharp. There was something flickering in his gaze that gave Akira the impression he was being evaluated. That he couldn't discern the reason why made him uncomfortable. When the overwrought silence between them seemed to cap its peak, the other boy blinked, breaking the spell, and smiled. It looked a little forced, but mostly resigned. Akira wondered what had been discovered during that moment of scrutiny, and whether it was good or bad.

What it meant for the two of them.

Shindou visibly shook himself. "Yeah. You, too," he said, and then seemingly in afterthought, "but if you're going to call Harria by her given name then I guess you can at least drop the suffix on mine. I'll do the same."

Akira blinked, taken aback. For a moment he'd expected to be rebuffed. Dismissed. Not this…tentative acceptance. But it was an olive branch if he'd ever heard one, and it would be the pinnacle of stupidity to turn it down—not when he wanted to be Harria's friend and she and Shindou apparently came as a packaged deal.

"Oh," Akira said, unconsciously rubbing his elbow. "Okay. If that's what you want..."

"Yeah. I guess it is."

Akira didn't miss the glance the boy shot Harria, or her returning grin, so evidently pleased. Clearly his and Shindou's truce-of-sorts was her maneuvering. He thought he should feel more upset, but anger was too much effort to drudge up and maintain. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd been manipulated. The choice had been entirely his. And Shindou didn't _seem_ the sort who'd befriend someone he didn't like, regardless who put him up to it. For one thing, he never would have been able to hide it; the boy seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeves.

"Nice to see you again, Ashiwara-san," Harria said, drawing Akira from his contemplation. She was speaking to the table's two other occupants now, and he was embarrassed to realize he'd actually forgotten they were there.

Akira watched as Harria transferred her gaze onto Ogata, grinned, and said in what he would swear was an _honest-to-god_ purr, "And you too, _Seiji_."

His given name. No honorific.

" _Harria_ ," Ogata returned easily, as if there was nothing at all strange about the situation. "This certainly is a pleasant surprise."

Akira's eyebrows drew up in bafflement while Shindou bristled beside him. He hadn't known the two of them were acquainted, let alone close enough to refer to each other so informally. It was different for Akira and the two insei, and even Ashiwara, to some extent—they were all around the same age. The _rules_ were not the same between adults and teenagers. Case in point, the fact that Akira still called Ogata by his surname despite knowing the man practically his whole life.

"So what's this?" Harria asked, oblivious to, or perhaps simply uncaring of, the looks she and Ogata were garnering. She gestured to the displayed game with a jut of her chin.

Ashiwara looked between the two in evident bewilderment, then answered, "Ah…this was a game between the Honinbou title holder and a 9-dan that took place yesterday. The Honinbou, playing white, won."

Harria made a small noise of interest and leaned over the table to peer at it. When she titled her head and pursed her lips in consideration, the word _cute_ flashed in his mind.

"Ooh, very nice," she praised. "16-4 was _really_ unfortunate, though. Black could have captured the white stones along the upper-left quadrant if they had just sacrificed the small cluster beneath it."

"They were too paranoid over losing any more territory to see the bigger picture," Shindou remarked, leaning over her shoulder as he regarded the goban. "The stone at 15-8 is another example. If black allowed those corner stones to be captured, with two well-placed moves they could have taken control of that entire section."

"It's unfortunate that black allowed their fear to cloud their judgment. They had some brilliant hands," Harria continued. She bent forward and tapped the air above the center point with her finger. "This _tengen_ move was particularly inspired."

And that was how two insei were drawn into a discussion with a 4-dan, a 5-dan, and the Juudan regarding a game between higher dans. What was telling was how easily they managed to keep up, voicing their opinions and arguing where most would have been intimidated into silence or hesitation. Akira found himself fascinated by the sheer insight and creativity the two displayed as they continuously pointed out moves even Ogata was intrigued by. It was clear that Harria and Shindou thought outside the box, and they knew how to mold and utilize their innovativeness within a game.

Simply put, observing how their minds worked was an incredible experience.

"He's an outdated old coot who's barely managing to cling to his title by his fingertips. He's so desperate that he resorts to unsettling his opponents by playing mind games," Ogata was grousing at Harria, who wasn't even trying to hide her amusement.

"Emotional warfare, huh? Well, I'm guessing it's effective since he's yet to lose his title to anyone," she pointed out, crossing her legs.

Akira was absolutely _not_ looking at her perfectly shaped knees with its adorable twin dimples. He definitely had more self-restraint than that.

"Tch. More like _desperate_ ," Ogata countered, flicking his cigarette over the ashtray.

Harria laughed. "Perhaps, but whatever works. I'd certainly love to play him. He sounds fun."

Ogata rolled his eyes at her boldness. "You _would_." His lips curled at the corners as he added, "You'd probably eat him alive, too."

Grinning, Harria shifted in her seat and loosely folded her arms. The movement pulled at her shirt, tightening the thin material so it molded around her chest, emphasizing it. Akira swallowed heavily as his eyes skittered down and then away, ashamed with himself for looking at all. Unfortunately, shame amounted very little to the mind of a teenaged male, especially when confronted with the figure of an attractive girl, and he couldn't stop his eyes from travelling to her torso again a minute later.

When Akira finally managed to tear his gaze away, turning slightly in his seat to make it more difficult for him to look, he caught Ashiwara's eyes—saw the astonishment peeking out of them—and hastily ducked his head as mortification turned his face red and set it ablaze.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ He thought with frustration, shoulders hunching and hands curling into fists on his lap. _Had I seriously just_ — _?_

"You give the best compliments, Seiji," Harria told him, mercifully oblivious to Akira's inappropriate glances. "If I end up facing him after the pro-exam I'll do my utmost to slaughter him for you."

With a snort, Ogata lightly flicked her heavily pierced ear—something that made Akira's haywire thoughts grind to a halt because Ogata was _not_ a tactile person, especially when it came to casual touching—and challenged, "I'd certainly like to see you try."

"Your lack of faith wounds me."

"I'm sure."

"Fine. Let's see if I offer to do anything for _you_ again."

Ogata only quirked his lips in amusement and drew her into another conversation about an unofficial game he'd recently had, and won, with the Ouza title holder.

Meanwhile, in between discussing the main title tournaments with Ashiwara, Shindou was sending Ogata glares that made Akira very thankful looks couldn't actually kill. Otherwise, Ogata would have been dead ten times over.

Not that he exactly blamed Shindou. He hadn't believed it at first, but Harria and Ogata _were_ flirting with each other. He didn't get the impression that it was serious, but even so. It brought into question his initial assumption that the two were dating, which was…

Akira shoved the thought to the deepest recess of his mind. Not only did he not want to lower himself to such underhanded pettiness, but he didn't want to get his hopes up, either. Even if they _weren't_ dating, chances were they would be. Harria's weird relationship with Ogata aside, she and Shindou had a closeness to them that exceeded the boundaries of friendship. He'd witnessed it firsthand the way they seemed to orbit around the other in a universe that seemed to be theirs alone.

Compared to that…Akira and Harria were virtually strangers. They didn't share even a tenth of that connection, and likely never would. It was astonishing enough that Harria seemed to genuinely _like_ Akira, pursuing a friendship with him despite his awkwardness and the endless walls he kept erect. Relationships were about give and take, he knew that, but he didn't have anything to offer aside from his strength in Go, and if Akira's suspicions were correct, Shindou was perfectly capable of providing that, too.

 _Crushes are horrible things_ , he thought, tuning into Ogata and Harria's conversation once again. Akira was well aware of his faults, but he'd never been the pessimistic, prone to self-pity type. He acknowledged his failings, accepted them, and went on with his life. His newfound habit of putting himself down was uncomfortably reminiscent of his childhood tendencies, and he _hated_ it.

"Why don't we play a game?" Ashiwara suddenly suggested, drawing everyone's attention.

Akira looked at him curiously, interest piqued. He'd been silent so far—more out of discomfort than anything. With the two insei there the group dynamic was skewered, and he wasn't sure how to insert himself without being totally awkward. That Harria made him feel clumsy and wrong-footed didn't help. In light of that, a game would break the flow of conversations Akira was not articulate or bold enough to breach. It would give him a way in without having to resort to verbal fumbling.

"A game?" Shindou repeated, distracted from his glaring for the time being. "Between who?"

Ashiwara shrugged. "Whoever wants to play, I guess. I'd personally love a rematch with Potter-chan, though," he said, glancing at her questioningly. When Harria responded by way of baring her teeth, Ashiwara visibly perked up and started clearing the board.

"I'm playing Touya, then," Shindou said, sparing a quick glower at Ogata before dismissing him to look at Akira. The eager gleam in his eyes was almost frightening, and Akira absently noticed that his eyes were green too, though lighter than Harria's, more olivine than summer grass. They were nice eyes.

Akira shook his head to scatter the weird thought and verbalized his assent. Shindou's responding grin was feral. Without fanfare the other boy fetched and set up the second board, his movements jerky with an excitement his opponent echoed strongly. Akira had been wanting to play against the insei who'd risen to the second seat of the first class in three months, made it to semi-finals of the Young Lion's Tournament, and lost against Harria by a _single_ moku. Harria's insistence that he was a "remarkable, innovative player" only spurred that desire.

Suddenly, Akira found himself almost dizzy with eagerness. He'd wanted another match against Harria, but if Shindou was anywhere near as good as he thought he was…

"I guess I'll be observing then," Ogata said dryly, stamping a stub of a cigarette into the ashtray and abandoning it there. A moment later he lit another one and placed it between his lips.

Akira made a mental note to talk to the man about cutting back. All that smoking couldn't be healthy. Quitting altogether would be ideal, but he doubted Ogata would ever abide by that. Then again, just getting him down to a quarter a pack a day would be a miracle.

"Feeling left out, Seiji?" Harria asked, voice a teasing lilt.

"What would you do if I were?"

"Patronize you with promises to shower you with attention later, and then mock you for being emotionally delicate," the girl said, not missing a beat.

Even Shindou stopped what he was doing to stare at her.

"Well," Ogata said after a stunned moment. Akira doubted he was the only one who noticed the man's trembling shoulders, though where most would assume it was due to suppressed rage, Akira knew better. The man was desperately trying to restrain a laugh. "I see honesty is a virtue you abide by, regardless how unwarranted it may be."

She winked. "Always."

"Harria," Shindou spoke up, voice audibly strained and cracking at the edges. There was something in his tone—a question, or perhaps a plea—and the effect was instantaneous. Before his eyes, Harria's expression lost all trace of flirtatiousness and softened into something that bordered on apologetic, but wasn't quite. Her acquiescence was noticeable to everyone, though, especially when she leaned over to slip her hand into Shindou's, entangling their fingers together.

When Harria planted a kiss against Shindou's cheek and the boy leaned into it as if to prolong the connection, the corners of his mouth turning up in a reluctant smile, Akira averted his gaze. He stared unseeingly at the board, feeling a coil of disappointment unfurl in his stomach.

He had no _right_ to feel so dejected. He'd suspected all along that they were dating, and he shouldn't have allowed even an iota of hope to enter his heart in the first place. Clearly all that flirting with Ogata was just a joke (and he'd known that, as well, for as intense as they came across there was an underlying playfulness there, innocent despite its suggestive overtones, and he knew Ogata wasn't interested in women besides)—perhaps even a ploy to make Shindou jealous, though she hadn't hesitated to stop when the boy had apparently reached his limits.

Sighing, and more than through with that particular line of thought, Akira refocused his attention on the board and picked up where Shindou had left off, separating the stones into their respective go-ke.

He allowed himself a brief moment to lament the fact that the first girl he's ever truly liked was attached to someone else, then planted himself firmly in the present. He had a game to play, and nothing good ever came from dwelling on unchangeable things, anyway.

* * *

 

 

**[2]**

Akira considered it the highest irony that Shindou—the bolder, brasher, and more expressive of the pair—was the one who played Go like a stealth expert. His hands were deceitful, moves unpredictable, and there was a certain calculative ingenuity in his game that was more so powerful because he had the patience and foresight to utilize it to its fullest.

Where facing Harria felt like quarrying through stone with the meager hope of extracting something valuable, facing Shindou felt like treading through a minefield. _Blindfolded_. Harria had described his game as 'nervewrecking' and now Akira understood why.

His earlier excitement, which had dissipated in the face of the two insei's affectionate display, had returned to life within moments of their game. Simmering beneath his skin, coiling in his gut, it made itself known with each extended hand and clatter of stone against wood. Akira was almost vibrating with exhilaration. He couldn't afford even a nanosecond of distraction, and his mind was like a pointed blade, always poised, synapses firing away while his gaze roamed over the intricate patterns on the board, trying to isolate the traps he knew where hidden there. Harmless, until they weren't.

And just as incredible was the fact that his enthusiasm was not one-sided. Shindou was just as affected, just as involved, as he was, eyes narrowed in unwavering concentration while his mouth stretched in a fervent grin. Even when Akira captured a considerable cluster of stones on the upper-right corner, that grin did not waver. It only spread wider, sharp with a determination that reflected the gleam in his pale-green eyes.

Akira placed a black stone on the lower right ledge, connecting that small cluster and successfully securing the diamond-shaped territory from further assault. He had only _just_ managed to circumvent the trap Shindou had positioned there nearly twenty hands earlier, and it had been luck more than anything else. Though he liked to think that luck was a talent, too.

Unfortunately, he couldn't predict the one he stepped right into at the midstar, and he watched with a sort of awed horror as he lost the surrounding territory to a frame that at first glance had been a random scattering of white stones, but with a single move had come to life in a constellation so intricate, so clever, it dried the mouth.

It was mindboggling how, just a month ago, there'd been no one near the vicinity of his age to rival him, and now there were _two._ Two remarkable players with distinct, fascinating styles who brought Akira's own Go to a level he hadn't imagined possible. Two players, both sixteen, who played with the determination he did, whose intelligence rivaled his own, and whose footsteps treaded the same path.

For the first time in years he allowed himself to hope that he wouldn't have to walk that path alone, and once there, the hope refused to leave, like a flame on a trick candle. One moment blown out, the next come to life, stronger and brighter than ever before.

When Shindou eventually resigned and they counted territories, he wasn't in the least surprised that he'd won by a slight margin. His still-racing heart and clammy palms proved just how close the game had been.

"Why is it always 1-moku?" Shindou groaned across from him, his hands in his hair.

"Because you suck," Harria teased him. She and Ashiwara had finished several minutes ago. She had won.

Shindou shot her an irritated glare before he slumped into his seat and sighed. "That was awesome, though. You're surprisingly sneaky for such an uptight guy, Touya."

Akira was reluctant to take that a compliment, so chose to stay silent.

"And you're surprisingly clever considering you're so dense," Harria retorted, flicking his ear. She ignored the wounded pout Shindou shot her and looked at Akira (who was trying _very_ hard not to feel smug by her defense of him). "Hikaru's right about it being brilliant, though. I almost forgot how amazing you are. Next time we meet up you and I will definitely play, yeah?"

Her expression allowed for no argument. Not that Akira had one to give. His own enthusiasm to face her again aside, on the opposite end of that expectant grin he doubted he would have been able to deny her anything.

"I would be honored," he managed after a moment, enraptured by the way her dimples deepened and her eyes sparkled with visible amusement.

Beside him, Ashiwara had a coughing fit. He cut his gaze to the man in concern, but he only waved his concern away and excused himself to the restroom. Ogata snorted as he left, but offered no answers when Akira turned his a questioning look on him.

Ogata and Ashiwara were so weird. Maybe that was why they were attracted to one another.

The group fell into a discussion about both games, which Ashiwara joined when he returned. It flowed much more fluidly than it had before, and unlike last time, Akira was not waylaid to the sidelines. They all made an effort to draw him into the conversation when his reticent nature threatened to take over and he stayed silent for too long. Ashiwara with his insightful questions, Ogata with his sharp comments, Harria with her mischievous coaxing, and surprisingly even Shindou, who constantly challenged Akira to keep up, to speak out, to stay involved.

What resulted was an exchange of snipes and barbs that was only borderline friendly. Shindou was like a kid picking at a scab, only the scab belonged to _Akira_ , and for the first time in his life Akira had actually _shouted_ at someone, shocking every person in the _Heart of Stone_ to their core. He was unimaginably relieved that the salon was mostly empty save the manager and the handful of regulars gathered at the opposite side of the room.

With any luck, they wouldn't tell anyone.

Unfortunately, the other's presence did little to stop their constant bickering. More unfortunately, their group only made it worse, watching them come to verbal blows like they were a highlighted event. At least Ashiwara looked too astounded to react. The same could not be said for Ogata or Harria, who watched on with open amusement while they whispered in each other's ears like entertained game commentators.

Harria, to her credit, did intervene when it looked like things were getting out of control. Boldly, she stepped between the two mid-argument, then reached behind her and drew Shindou into a backwards hug. The raising of her arms and the scant inches between her and Akira resulted in very, very uncomfortable proximity to one particular part of her body and just like that, Akira's anger was gone, drenched and extinguished. In its place was an entirely different kind of heat, one that made him lightheaded.

"Now boys," her smile was all teeth, "don't you think this is getting out of hand?"

The command in her tone was clear, and needless to say, they argued a lot less after that.

Eventually their inevitable departure came, and Akira's anxiety and uncertainty returned as if it had never left.

"Saturday is still definitely on," Harria assured him after the gobans had been cleared, the go-ke lidded, and their seats tucked in.

"Yeah," was all Akira said, even as his mind whispered _but Saturday is an entire week away._

It was hard to speak over the turmoil that was churning his stomach. As he watched them pull on the coats the manager brought by, he realized how much he didn't want them to go. Harria, with her old eyes and her roguish smile and her gentleness, always knowing just what to say to put him at ease. And even Shindou, despite their arguments. There were few things that made Akira feel _alive_ , blood rushing and nerves sparking and heart thrumming in his chest. Go was the primary one. His conversations with Harria another. And now, somehow, bantering with Shindou had become a third.

"See you, Seiji-san," Harria said, tone full of the flirtatiousness it had been bereft of since Shindou had asked her to stop.

The boy stiffened at her side, but said nothing.

Apparently he still hadn't figured out that Ogata wasn't romantically interested in women. It was perhaps cruel of him, but Akira had no intention of divulging the truth. Watching him hiss like a slighted cat brought out his vindictive side, it seemed. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was venting some of his frustration through Ogata, even if the man didn't know.

"Mm. Next time we see each other, we'll have our match," Ogata said, one hand slipping into his pocket as he stepped closer to her. There was a… _pressure_ between them, an electricity Akira didn't understand. It was the kind that sparked between Ogata and Ashiwara sometimes, only _different_. He wanted to ask Ogata about it but doubted he'd receive a straightforward answer. If there was something the man loved, it was flashing his secrets long enough to ensnare an audience, then secreting them away before they could get a good look.

"Will we?" she asked while she wrapped a scarf around her neck—short and woolen, and purple to match her skirt. "Good to know you've got it all figured out."

"Did you expect anything less?" Ogata sounded curious.

Quicker than Akira's eyes could keep up with, Harria's hand snaked up and snatched the cigarette from Ogata's lax fingers. With dancing eyes, she brought the butt-end to her lips, inhaled deeply, and released a steady stream of smoke through her nose. Unlike Ashiwara, who had choked and spluttered the first time he'd tried it, she didn't so much as cough. Another deep inhale, another slow exhale, that time from between her lips, and she pulled the cigarette free and returned it between Ogata's fingers. Through it all, his hand had not moved.

"Did _you_?" she asked mischievously, then sauntered, paying little heed to the three sets of eyes staring into her back.

After a moment of mutual speechlessness, Ogata shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips. Either he didn't care that another person's mouth had been wrapped around it, or his need for tobacco outweighed the lack of hygiene. Akira thought it might have been a bit of both.

"Well. She's certainly…bold," Ashiwara said, breaking the quiet.

"I wasn't aware that she smoked," Ogata probed, glancing at Shindou.

"She doesn't. She doesn't like cigarettes," Shindou answered, apparently too shocked (or perhaps disturbed) to spare a glare at the man he'd been relentlessly glowering at since they'd arrived.

Ashiwara opened his mouth, but was cut off by Harria's exasperated call for Shindou to hurry up.

And then Akira remembered that they were leaving, and his spirits plummeted again.

"Here, grab this." Without warning, a ridiculously long scarf was tossed in his direction, and Akira brought his arms up to catch it. Frowning at Shindou, he scooped up the tasseled edge from where it dragged on the floor and carefully draped it over his arms.

When he looked up Shindou was already halfway across the room, pulling on a hat as he walked.

Rolling his eyes at the boy's gall, Akira followed after him.

"Thanks," Shindou said, plucking the scarf from Akira's arms and draping it over his neck. Despite wrapping it around several times, the ends still came up to his knees. Honestly, Akira didn't see the point in wearing something so obstructive.

"See you next week, Akira," Harria said. "We'll drop by around ten—"

"Eleven," Shindou interjected.

She rolled her eyes. " _Eleven_ , since some people get grumpy without enough beauty sleep. Is that a convenient time for you?"

"Yes, eleven's fine," Akira assured her, feigning nonchalance. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach forward and stop them both from leaving. He couldn't help but worry that they'd change their minds about wanting to spend time with him between now and then. Many others had done it before.

Today had been the most fun he'd had since…forever, it felt like. The game had been wonderful, but their company had been, as well—even with the tension between Shindou and Ogata, and his and Shindou's own tendency to argue.

Akira didn't want them to leave and change their minds.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"You know," Shindou said suddenly, breaking him out of his heavy thoughts, "Saturday is kind of far, isn't it?"

Harria's grin was slow to come, but it was blinding at full length. Akira looked between the two in confusion, unsure what the purpose was for his seemingly random comment and her satisfied smile.

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Karu-chan," Harria said, rising to her tiptoes to ruffle his hair.

Shindou ignored her with the ease of someone who was used to the treatment and only continued to stare at Akira in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Why did he always feel like he was being fettered to a lab table beneath his scrutinizing gaze?

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" Shindou asked, catching Akira off guard.

"Pardon?"

Shindou huffed. "I _asked_ if you'll be busy tomorrow."

"What Hikaru means is that we can drop by tomorrow if you don't have any other plans. We have a discussion session at the Go Institute that ends at four, but we're free after that."

Akira blinked rapidly as their words registered. The offer coming from Harria wouldn't have surprised him, but from Shindou…

He ducked his head to hide a threatening smile.

"I'll be free by then," he assured. He was too pleased to feel overly embarrassed by how shy he had sounded. It was nothing they couldn't detect from the flush on his face.

"Great. We'll see you tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow," Akira agreed.

"Alright," she said, stepping forward. Akira was not expecting the kiss placed on his cheek, and promptly froze—thoughts screeching to a stop, mental functioning ceasing, heart going statue still. She pulled away with a smile, and the moment their eyes locked, everything jumpstarted, rushing back.

"Bye, Akira-kun," she laughed, opening the door and slipping through. The cold that hit him felt like a much needed splash of water, and he welcomed the clarity it brought.

Aware of how possessive Shindou was of Harria, Akira hesitantly turned to the other boy. That gleam in his eyes was back—the look that meant Akira was being studied, dissected—but it was fleeting, and it disappeared with a roll of his eyes.

"She's such a troublemaker," he sighed, carding his fingers through his hair and finishing what Harria had started. Akira hadn't thought it possible, but he actually made it worse.

"I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Touya." His smile was slight, but Akira thought it was honest. It broadened and took on a sharper edge when he said, "Next time I face you, I _won't_ lose."

The familiar weight of being challenged settled comfortably in his chest, and Akira returned his fierce look with one of his own. "I'd like to see you try."

With those words, he felt like something had been set into motion. And when Shindou's eyes darkened, Akira thought he might have felt it, too.

Grin razor sharp, he saluted Akira and followed Harria out of the salon. Another cold blast of air hit him, but it could not quell the heat that was thrumming just beneath the surface of his skin, nor the hot echo that lingered like an imprint on his cheek.

He rocked to the balls of his feet and stuffed his trembling hands in his pockets.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

 

 

**[3]**

"The demon trio," Ogata said out of nowhere.

"What?" Akira spared him a sideways glance before he returned to staring distractedly out of the side window. The city looked dreary as it flashed them by, grey and wet from the sudden downpour. The news station hadn't so much as hinted that the day would bring rain, which was indicated by the mad scrambling of people on the streets, desperate to get out of the cold rain but forced to move at a snail's pace because of the crowds.

Akira was grateful that both Ogata and Ashiwara owned cars and had offered him a ride home. He went with Ogata since the man was coming over to his house anyway.

"The demon duo," he continued, staring blandly at the traffic in front of them. They would be there for a while, but at least they were dry, and warm. That was more than could be said for the people out there. "—Is what the other insei call Shindou and Harria-chan."

Akira was momentarily distracted from the conversation when he noted the man's sudden use of an honorific, doubtless because Shindou was not in range to hear. He snorted inwardly, amused despite himself by the man's immaturity. However, that amusement faded when Ogata glanced sideways at him, his gaze as sly as his smile.

"But now that they've essentially adopted you," he continued, "I suppose they'll now have to change it to the _demon trio._ "

Akira held his gaze for a moment then looked away with an inward roll of his eyes. To be honest, he was too happy with the day's turn of events to care that Ogata was basically comparing him to an abandoned puppy. He had friends now—or at least, something that was steadily getting there.

It was brilliant, and not even Ogata's teasing could destroy his good mood.

Akira gave into the urge to smile and, ignoring Ogata's snort, pressed his hand against his cheek. Nearly an hour later and the skin still felt warm. Though not quite as warm as the emotions that were beginning to bloom in his chest.

Everything was going to change. Akira could sense it the same way one sensed an oncoming storm. Everything was going to change, and the three of them were going to be at the center of it. For once, he wasn't going to be isolated to the sidelines, alone and disconnected from events, a voyeur in his own domain.

His anticipation far outweighed whatever nervousness he might have felt.

 

 

**_to be continued._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Heart of Stone_ is an actual Go salon in the series, but it's not the name of the one Touya's family owns. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  **TERMS: Dan** – refers to pro ranks, 1-dan being the lowest and 9-dan being the highest | **Insei** – certified go apprentice | **Goban** – go board | **Go-ke** – bowl that holds go stones | **Moku** – game points | **Honinbou/Juudan/Ouza** \- professional go titles, won via tournaments | **Midstar/Tengen** – center point of goban


	6. Motion

 

**[1]**

 

_August._

The days transitioned from cold to warm to sweltering as spring bled into summer, and too soon for some, and not soon enough for others, August arrived, and with it the start of the professional Go exams.

Akira fell under the category of those who felt the time go by in a blur. There was something about having a friend, about having things and people and occasions to look forward to, that accelerated the hands of the clock. Before, Akira could remember his days crawling by at a pace even snails wouldn't envy, as if time itself had been laden down with the monotony of his existence.

Things were different now. Akira woke up each morning with more than just Go to look forward to. His schedule was not set in stone, unchanging, without variation. His tomorrows were not replicas of todays and echoes of yesterdays. His life was no longer spread out before him in a clean, narrow path with a visible end.

Sometimes Akira thought he should be angry that his future was not so clear-cut anymore. That the steady path he'd paved for himself had become a convoluted forest trail without his consent. But all he had to do was close his eyes and remember how he'd been before—stranded in the middle of a fixed line, alone with endless miles of nothingness rolling out ahead of him. A clear-cut path, for certain, but also a lonely one.

Anything was better than that certainty, that solitude. And Akira could admit, if only to himself, that the sudden complexity of his life was not so bad. Sort of thrilling. Exhilarating, even. There was something to be said for the excitement of not knowing what each day would bring, let alone the future. It was even more amazing when there were others walking the same intricate path alongside you.

Perhaps that was why time appeared to be moving faster. Before, he'd simply been strolling along, content to move at his own unhurried pace. Now, he no longer had that luxury. It was a constant race between him and his new friends, all of them scrambling to get ahead, to take the lead, to hold onto it. It was like being on an adventure, the like only found in fairytales. A juvenile comparison, perhaps, but no less true.

And best of all, Akira was certain he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Everything was changing. All because a strange girl had entered his life one day, seen something in him she felt was worth pursuing, and proceeded to stick to him like a particularly potent adhesive. All the while dragging along her best friend for the ride. Akira still had no idea what Potter Harria had seen in him that day, but he was grateful for whatever it was. Harria had proven to be an invaluable friend, one he didn't know how he'd ever managed to be without.

Heedlessly she'd barged into his life, integrated herself into every aspect of it, chipped away at his sturdy barriers until they came crumbling down, then made a home out of the debris. Crawled into his heart and made a niche for herself between the veins and valves. Drove a flagpole into the surface of his mind that boldly read: _I came, I saw, I conquered._ Seared a firebrand into his soul that fortified her claim.

And he didn't mind, not about any of it, because he loved her. No matter how hard Akira had tried to keep himself from falling, he'd plummeted toward it anyway, encaged by the laws of her gravity. Falling for Harria had been as inevitable as the shattering of bones after a long fall, and just as painful, because at the end of the day _she was in love with someone else._

To make matters worse, he couldn't even resent the object of her affection. Not when he was Akira's sorta-friend, too, and Akira could understand why.

Shindou Hikaru, the guy who'd stolen her heart before Akira had known it existed, was the kind of person no one could hate. Confident, but not cruel. Brave, but not reckless. Passionate, but not mindlessly so. He wore his emotions on his sleeves and lived life with a candid vigor that sometimes hurt to watch. Where Akira was muted, Shindou blazed, personality as bright as his artificially colored hair. It was so easy to look at him and see what compelled Harria. Unlike Akira, who couldn't figure out what the girl saw in him no matter how hard he peered at his reflection in the mirror.

Those were the thoughts that plagued Akira as he walked into the Go Institute on August 30th, the week after the final round of the pro exams. The building was as empty as he'd ever seen it, bereft of the insei that usually populated it. Aside from the occasional passerby, the only other people he came across were the administrators, which was a relief. Akira was in no mood to be gawked at, and the whispers that often erupted around him would not go unmissed.

"Ah, Touya-kun, what a pleasant surprise," the insei master, Shinoda, said as Akira stepped into the reception hall. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

A professional inquiry, and not the ingratiating offers or grudging assistance he was used to receiving from the majority of the staff. Akira had always liked the insei master for that reason.

"Good evening, Shinoda-san. And no, I'm only here to observe the game."

The man nodded in understanding. "Right, right. Potter-san's match against Zama-Oza, correct? Well, you know the way, I won't hold you. If you hurry you can still make it before it starts. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Touya-kun."

"And you as well, Shinoda-san. Thank you." Akira bowed, then quickly left the room. He made it to the elevator hall, pressed a button, then watched it light up. His eyes followed the number displayed on the digital screen as the shaft made its way down. When the doors opened with a resonating _ping_ , Akira stepped inside, relieved to find it empty. He pressed another button, and waited impatiently as the shaft climbed to the seventh floor.

The observatory that displayed the matches held in the Room of Profound Darkness was on the northern side of the building. Akira's loafers squeaked as he sped down empty hallways, trying to make up for the time he'd wasted wandering listlessly. He arrived at the room a few moments later and quickly pushed open the door.

At once, several sets of eyes swiveled in his direction, and Akira fumbled for a moment, caught off guard by the sheer number of people in the small room. Amano was there, and he quickly turned his gaze away before the reporter took it as an invitation to pester him. Quite a few of the insei instructors were there as well. Teenagers, likely insei, who Akira only vaguely remembered seeing before, took up an entire table by themselves. He surmised that they were the group Harria sometimes met up with then dismissed them, seeking the owner of a familiar shock of yellow hair.

He found two.

Seated at an empty table lateral to the one the insei occupied was Shindou, arms crossed and frown in place. The reason for his cross mood was likely the man on his opposite side, whose light brown hair looked almost blond beneath the sunlight streaming through the window. It was unmistakably Ogata.

Akira hesitated, one hand splayed against the edge of the doorway, not quite certain if he'd be welcomed. He'd known Shindou would be here, of course he had, but while he genuinely liked the other guy…they weren't as close as he and Harria were. Not nearly. Even after months of knowing each other, of hanging out, of playing Go together, there was a sort of strain in their relationship. A tenseness between them Akira couldn't define, and consequently, couldn't fix. More rivals than friends, unlike Akira and Harria who were friends first and rivals second.

The decision was taken out of his hands when Shindou turned away from Ogata, noticed Akira standing there, and waved him over with a broad smile. He looked genuinely happy to see him, and Akira took the spreading warmth in his belly to be relief. He walked over, nodding his head at those who greeted him and ignoring those who didn't, and slid into the seat next to Shindou, who he absently noticed was wearing a shirt that read _'my best friend's an alien'_ on the front.

He'd been around Shindou and Harria long enough to know who the shirt was referring to.

"Evening, Ogata-san. Shindou. Nice shirt, by the way," he remarked, feeling amused despite the visual reminder of being an outsider to their duo. He still didn't know why Shindou insisted on calling Harria ' _alien-chan.'_ The one time he had outright asked they hadn't been exactly forthcoming, so he never did so again. He found that it was better to just ignore such indicators of their close-knit relationship—all the inside jokes, secret smiles, and knowing looks that went over his head. It was less painful to feign obliviousness and pretend that he wasn't the interloper he actually was.

Just like it was better to pretend he wasn't in love with Harria, and that she and Shindou weren't perfect for one another, and that Akira even had a chance.

"Thanks," Shindou said, grinning widely. His delight, directed at Akira for once, made his insides twist. Perhaps he shouldn't have eaten that third serving of rice for breakfast after all. "I'm glad you came. _Really_ glad you came." He shot a glowering look at Ogata, who returned it with a patronizing smile, and looked away with a harrumph. "You're later than I thought you'd be, though. You like, _just_ made it. Something hold you up?"

Akira tried not to fidget. "Ah, no, not really. I guess I was just walking more slowly than I realized."

"In other words, you were daydreaming and spent too much time ambling around, probably in circles. Right?" Shindou nudged him teasingly, and laughed when Akira turned bright red. "Ha, knew it! You're such a spaz, Touya."

"Am not," Akira groused, affronted by the accusation and mortified that it was pretty much true. Was he really that predictable? How embarrassing.

"That's a surprisingly apt observation," Ogata, the traitor, commented.

"What would your fans think if they knew what kind of guy you really are?" Shindou asked with faux innocence. Because apparently the two only ever got along when they were teaming up to bully Akira.

Before Akira could make a retort, one of the insei turned around and poked Shindou in the back, thankfully diverting his attention.

"Oi, Shindou, I didn't know you were friends with Touya!" hissed the red-haired one who was more often than not glaring at Akira. It didn't go unnoticed that the guy said Akira's name like it was something dirty, and he bristled inwardly at his tone.

"Huh? Waya?" Shindou said, craning his head. "Oh, yeah. We are. What of it?"

Words thrown about so carelessly, yet they knocked Akira's perception askew. Akira stared at Shindou, dumbfounded. He…honestly hadn't known that Shindou considered them to be friends. Rivals, yes. Acquaintances, yes. People who walked the same path and shared a mutual comrade (and love interest), yes. But friends? In hindsight, he supposed they were, and felt a little ashamed that it had taken him so long to realize it when Shindou had apparently figured it out long ago.

"Oh," the guy, Waya, said, sounding completely dumbstruck. The warmth that had been spreading through Akira's stomach at Shindou's ready admittance was starting to turn cold at the disbelieving looks some of the insei were shooting them. "That's…surprising."

"Why?" Shindou asked, echoing the question that was at the forefront of Akira's mind, only with less derision.

"I didn't think you even knew how to _be_ friends with other people besides Potter. It's shocking, is all."

Akira didn't for a second believe that was the sole reason for his incredulity.

"Oi! I have other friends!" argued Shindou.

"Really? Who?" another insei asked. He was older and had more freckles than skin.

"Um…" Shindou trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in thought. After a long moment he folded his arms over his chest and jutted his chin out, the picture of defiance. "I've got Harria and Touya. I don't _need_ anyone else," he insisted, daring them to refute it. He unfolded his arms and hooked one around Akira's shoulder as if to emphasize that fact.

And just like that the warmth was back. Ten—no, _twentyfold_.

As Shindou and the insei continued to bicker, Akira remained silent, hyperaware of the heat, the closeness, of the person at his side. Rarely was Akira touched by other people. Harria was the exception, but she touched him so freely that he'd simply grown used to it (and the stomach butterflies she caused). Shindou was different. They brushed skin occasionally, such as when they were leaning too close, but that was the extent. There wasn't anything like _this_.

Warm skin against the nape of his neck. Calloused fingers brushing his arm. Shindou smelled distinctively of soap and mild cologne, no brand he was able to identify, and he was _husky,_ thicker and heavier than Harria, his arm a solid weight across his shoulders.

It felt as if all the nerve endings in his body had stopped working except for the places touched by Shindou's skin. Everywhere else was numb.

And then Shindou pulled away, cutting the connection and consequently setting the rest of his body to rights, and the sudden loss of heat made Akira feel chilled.

He wasn't sure why he was responding in such a way, but something was telling him that he shouldn't look at it too closely so he didn't, opting to turn away and put some distance between them. Unconsciously his eyes locked with Ogata's, and he felt his heart pound at the look the man was giving him, like he _knew something_ that Akira didn't and was terribly amused by whatever it was.

Akira narrowed his eyes before looking away. His hands curled beneath the table, the only indication of his unease. He kept his gaze trained on the old television at the front of the room, waiting for the display on it to change. When it did, and two heads suddenly appeared on the screen—one balding, the other full with wayward curls—an excited hush fell over the room. Akira allowed himself to relax, welcoming the distraction.

"Do you think Potter's going to win?" he heard someone ask. He didn't turn around to see who it was. Didn't care enough to.

"Are you serious?" someone else replied. Female, young. "She might be good, but she's only a new shodan. Zama-Oza is going to crush her."

" _Shh!_ Be quiet, the match is starting!"

"Shows what they know, eh?" came a whisper in Akira's ear. His hands clenched into fists as he fought to suppress a shiver because Shindou's breath was _warm_. "She's totally going to kick his ass."

Akira's eyes slid towards Shindou, who was leaning towards him, his sea-green eyes narrowed on the screen. He sounded confident, and Akira knew nothing would dissuade him from his opinion.

"You think she's going to beat him?" Akira asked, just as quietly.

He suddenly found himself on the other end of an intense stare. "What do _you_ think, Touya?"

His name, no more than a breath of air against the shell of his ear, sent Akira's pulse racing. He tried to ignore what Shindou's proximity was doing to him (while refusing to acknowledge that it was doing something at all) and cleared his throat. Swallowed.

"I think," he started, returning his gaze to the front, "that whether or not she wins, Zama-Oza will not be satisfied with the outcome."

After a heartbeat's pause a hand clamped over his shoulder and squeezed, then fell away.

Akira didn't contemplate the sense of loss that washed over him at the disconnection, or the way his fingers twitched as if they'd been about to capture Shindou's hand. He apprehended the thought then buried it away, all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

"Good answer," Shindou said, pulling away.

On the screen, a slender hand made an appearance. The owner had painted each nail a different color, all shocking neon hues, and they stood out like polychrome glow-sticks in a lightless room. Shocked muttering erupted around him, and Akira had to bite his lip to contain a smile. It was so _Harria_ to do such a thing. The people with her in the Room of Profound Darkness were probably appalled.

Beside him, Ogata drawled, "Why am I not surprised?"

On his other side Shindou was desperately trying not to laugh.

Thoroughly amused, Akira watched as the first black stone was set on the lower right star. Soon after a white stone was set on the point beside it. Another black stone was placed above the white one. White chased it, connecting at the side, blocking its advancement.

Akira couldn't keep himself from snorting out loud. Clearly Harria had done something to upset the Oza (which, knowing the both of them, didn't surprise Akira in the least) because his intent was clear: he wanted her beaten, he wanted her _crushed_ , as soon as possible. The beginnings of a smirk tugged at the corners of Akira's mouth as he settled in his chair, looking forward to watching the Oza try.

 

* * *

 

**[2]**

In the end, no one won. The game ended in a draw.

Ogata left as soon as it was over, but he and Shindou stood behind, and now they waited in front of the Room of Profound Darkness with the reporter, Amano, standing a few paces away.

"We both lost our initiation games," Shindou sighed, ruffling his bangs. "This blows."

"I lost mine, too," Akira tried to reassure him. Shindou had played against Kuwabara-sensei yesterday and lost by three moku. Considering the man had been hoarding the Honinbou title for over half a decade, it was no small feat.

Honestly, Shindou and Harria had performed far better than he could claim to have during his own initiation match. He still got a bad taste in his mouth when he remembered his six moku loss against Zama-Oza, even _with_ a five stone handicap. Of course, he'd only been twelve at the time, but the memory of that humiliating defeat still stung.

Akira couldn't _wait_ to face the man again. Next time, the outcome would be _very_ different.

Shindou offered him a small smile and shook his head. "Yeah, when you were, like, five."

Before Akira could protest the door they were all waiting on swung open. Looking ludicrously unruffled, Potter Harria walked out with the ease of someone who hadn't just finished a two-hour game against a major title holder in one of the most densely atmospheric places he knew while being filmed for the entire Go community to see. But that was Harria. Nothing ever seemed to phase her. Truthfully, he envied her that particular trait.

When Harria saw them her face lit up in a smile and on cue, Akira's heart did its familiar somersault, as if it were trying to leap towards her.

He wouldn't discount it. One would think that after months of being in her presence on a regular basis he would be accustomed to her by now, but the opposite was true. The more he got to know her the harder he fell.

"Hey, you two. Thanks for waiting."

"A draw?" was Shindou's reply. Akira shot him a withering look at his lack of tact.

Harria's smile twisted into something resembling a grimace. "A draw. Given I had a five stone handicap, it was technically a loss. In all honestly, I underestimated his wiliness. His traps weren't as clever as yours are, Hikaru, but they were still difficult to bypass. I kept falling for them." Her eyes gleamed. "I learned a lot, though, and the next time I face him I _will_ win."

"Can I quote that?" a voice spoke behind them. They all turned and saw Amano standing there with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. He looked a bit sheepish at having been caught eavesdropping, but no less determined if his steady gaze on Harria was anything to go by.

Harria's responding grin was feral. "Go ahead. Let him know I'm coming for him."

Akira took consolation in the fact that he wasn't the only one who shivered at her bloodthirsty tone. He almost felt bad for the Oza. Almost, but not quite.

"Uh, wonderful," Amano said, clearing his throat. "Potter-san, I realize you must be tired after such an intense game, but could I bother you for a short interview? I won't take up much of your time, I promise."

Harria cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive bird. "Sure. Ask away."

True to his word, the interview lasted no more than a few minutes, though Akira hadn't counted on the man roping him and Shindou into it. He should have. Upright he might have been, Amano was still a reporter; he wouldn't let such an opportunity to drill all three of them at the same time pass him by.

Brief interview or not, Akira was, as always, glad to see the man's back.

After, they walked out of the Go Institute and into the sweltering summer heat. Any lingering chill from the air-conditioned building was quick to dissipate, leaving Akira feeling clammy, then hot. The too-bright sunlight hurt his eyes and the arid weather made his throat itch. Gods, but how he hated summer.

"So, where to next?" Harria asked.

Akira found it difficult not to stare at the way her hair gleamed under the sun. Without him realizing it she had pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail, leaving the nape of her neck bare. Her skin was always pale, but it was especially so there, and without his permission his eyes trailed over the smooth expanse of skin uncovered by her sleeveless top. There was a scattering of dust-colored freckles along her back, pouring over the curve of her shoulders, likely brought out by the sun.

Akira swallowed, entranced, eyes unconsciously mapping constellations from the amber stars that adorned her skin. He was brought out of his trance by a loud, pointed cough. He snapped his head to the side and locked gazes with Shindou, who did not look impressed.

Blushing furiously, Akira lowered his head, allowing his hair to obscure his face like a curtain. He couldn't believe he had just done that—had just _ogled_ Harria in the middle of a busy street, and in front of her sort-of boyfriend too, no less. Sometimes Akira wondered about this so-called prodigious intelligence people believed him to possess.

"Why don't we get something to eat," Harria suggested. Her voice was even, but there was an undertone of amusement that did not go unheard, and Akira's mortification grew.

He didn't doubt that Harria had already cottoned on to his…infatuation. She was too perceptive, and he wasn't exactly subtle, though not for lack of trying. She was decent enough to pretend obliviousness so as not to embarrass him, or rub it in, but there were moments, such as now, when she'd let something slip. A thread in her voice, a glint in her eye, a shadow of some emotion in her smile. And the hurt would then come, overpowering any embarrassment, because those tells meant she was pretending for _his_ sake. That she didn't feel the same way but didn't want to hurt him.

A familiar twinge in his chest made itself known, but Akira ignored it and didn't let it show. He didn't want her to feel _guilty_ for something that was out of their control. Pity was the least of what he wanted from her, and Harria didn't deserve to be put in such an uncomfortable position. It wasn't her fault that Akira's heart hadn't gotten the memo that she wasn't interested.

"Ramen!" Shindou cheered, easily distracted by the thought of food.

"Not happening," Harria shot him down. "I vote Indian."

"But I want _ramen_ ," Shindou insisted.

"Do I look like I care? Besides, we had ramen last time. It's my turn to choose."

"Actually, if we're being technical here it's _Touya's_ turn."

They both turned to him with identical expressions of expectation.

Grateful that his…mishap had been forgotten, even if only in appearance, Akira rolled his eyes and said, "Indian sounds good."

Shindou snorted. "Why did I even bother?"

Akira ignored his insinuation. "Is _Little Guyana_ fine by you two?"

Harria perked up. "That place by the station, right? Yeah, I haven't been there in a while. C'mon, Hikaru, don't pout. You like their masala, don't you?"

A scowl. "Whatever."

"I'll take that as a yes." She grabbed Shindou's hand and proceeded to drag the protesting guy down the street, ignoring the looks she was given by passerby.

Akira sighed and followed after them.

 

* * *

 

**[3]**

The owners of _Little Guyana_ were a friendly couple who had moved to Japan over a decade ago to remain near their daughter, who had married a Japanese man and gone to live with him. At least, that is what the wife told their group as she waited for Shindou to decide what he wanted to eat. They were the ideal restaurant owners—amiable, but not too talkative, and they didn't pry. When their meal arrived the owners' son, Geoff, was quick to depart, leaving the trio alone in the little alcove they'd chosen to occupy, cut off from the rest of the restaurant and obscured by a potted plastic tree. It suited Akira's need for privacy perfectly.

"Can I taste that?" Shindou asked, eyeing the steaming bowl in front of Harria. "That's curry, right? Is it hot?"

"Sure. And it's spicy, but not overly so." As if to prove her point she plucked a brown clump from the dish and popped it in her mouth.

Misgivings abated, Shindou leaned forward and snatched one with his fork. He studied it for a second, then ate it with a shrug.

It was sheer coincidence that Akira's eyes flickered to Harria in time to see a tiny smirk play at the corner of her mouth before it disappeared. It happened so quickly that anyone else would have thought they'd imagined it, but Akira knew better. Mischievous was her default setting.

Harria caught his gaze and grinned, confirming his suspicions, and they both turned to watch the outcome of whatever prank she had pulled.

It happened quickly. One moment Shindou was simply chewing, face open with appreciation, and the next he was seizing his cup and gulping it down like it was the last drop of water in a desert. His face was bright red, and his eyes were watering, and Akira could almost _see_ steam emerging from his ears. Akira schooled his expression to hide his amusement and wordlessly offered his own glass of water when the guy finished his own.

"Y-y-you!" Shindou rasped after he'd drained Akira's cup. He looked like a boiled lobster.

Harria's face was a perfect mask of concern. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Shindou spluttered. "You did that on purpose, you—"

"I did no such thing," said Harria. She speared another piece of curry and ate it. Chewed. "See? It's not that hot. You're just too sensitive, Hikaru."

"I'll give you _sensitive_!"

Akira lost the battle and chuckled. He met Harria's gaze over the table and the girl winked at him, bottle-green eyes glimmering with mirth before she resumed her impersonation of a well-meaning friend.

"I hate you so much sometimes," Shindou groused before he leaned over the booth and waved a worker over. As Geoff refilled their empty glasses and Shindou sulked, Harria drew Akira into a discussion regarding the responsibilities of new pro.

"So aside from ranking matches and the occasional teaching game, we're basically the Japanese Go Association's lap dogs," Harria summarized, rather aptly.

He didn't bother denying it. "I wouldn't phrase it quite like that but yes, essentially."

"At least we're getting paid for it," Shindou said, polishing off his rice.

Harria nodded. "There's that."

"So what's on the agenda for today? You have any plans after this, Touya?" Shindou waited for Akira to shake his head before suggesting the Heart of Stone.

"It's closed for renovations. Didn't Harria tell you?"

Shindou swiveled his head towards Harria, who gave him an apologetic look. "It must have slipped my mind. Sorry, 'Karu."

Shindou huffed, but waved it off. "So where else can we go? Another salon? We could go to my place, but my mom's really annoying—ow! Harria, that hurt!"

Akira cut in before their argument could escalate. "We could go to my house. That is, if you're not opposed," he awkwardly trailed off when they turned to look at him with surprise.

Harria was the first to react. "You sure? Okay then, I'm fine with that. Hikaru?"

"Yeah, I'm game. I kind of want to see where Touya lives anyway. I bet it's a traditional house, right? You look the type, even though you favor western-styled suits."

Akira hesitated. "It is, actually. I live on the other side of the city, on the outskirts, near Saizahiru. We can get there by train, but it's still a bit of a walk."

"That's fine. I know Hikaru looks lazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but he actually enjoys walking. It'll be fun. Will your parents mind us just dropping by?"

That stopped Akira short. He didn't know. It wasn't as if he'd ever brought friends home before. He contemplated it for a moment. "It should be fine. I'll send my mother a text when we're finished here just in case."

Harria nodded but was soon distracted by Shindou trying to steal her roti. What followed was a battle of forks that Akira was content to stay out of it. It didn't take long for it to come to an end—Harria simply pouted, and Shindou's resolve crumbled like a house of cards—and their table tapered off into silence after Harria split the roti and shared it, as Akira knew she would.

He watched them while he ate, but that was nothing new. Akira often watched them, his first real friends. The reality of it made his chest glow with warmth. _Friends._ What a simple, unassuming word, and yet it meant so much. Endless potential and possibilities rolled into seven measly letters. One syllable, but a hundred connotations contained within.

It was amazing how much his life had changed, how much _he_ had changed, in four short months, all because two strangers had decided to stick around.

Twisting his flat noodles onto his fork, Akira dribbled some red sauce onto it and quickly popped it in his mouth, one hand cupped beneath his chin to catch any spills. While he chewed his thoughts continued to center around the two others at the table. He didn't bother trying to refocus them—there were only two things Akira ever thought about anymore: the first was, and would always be, Go, and the second was the pair who had glued themselves to his side.

This time, however, his thoughts kept creeping not to the object of his affections, but the guy sitting beside him.

Shindou Hikaru. Almost sixteen, like he was, and yet nothing like him at all. Shindou was everything Akira wasn't: extroverted, brazen, brash. Their relationship had been difficult at first, rife with arguments Akira had kept being drawn into despite his intentions, but somewhere down the line the arguments had tapered off. He wasn't sure why, but he figured Harria might have something to do with it. It was just an inkling, but what other cause could there be?

One day, Shindou had simply stopped snapping at him. Stopped slapping his proffered hand away. Stopped dismissing his opinions and rejecting his help and looking at him with thinly veiled distrust. Whatever the cause, Akira was grateful for it—the constant arguing had been tiring; the constant tension taxing.

Not that it was exactly gone. It was just _different_ now, less hostile. Akira couldn't put it into words, and he was honest enough with himself to admit that even attempting to do so made him uncomfortable. He had a hunch that he wouldn't like what he found. Unfortunately, that didn't prevent his unconscious mind from trying to circumvent his hesitancy and pick it apart anyway. And that was probably why he could do little to derail the thoughts now, as if the pieces he'd secreted in moments of distraction, of weakness, had accumulated to a point they could no longer be ignored.

The truth Akira tried so hard to consign to grave was that, in the same way Harria affected him, Shindou did, too. It was different, of course it was, but it wasn't different _enough_ and that troubled him. Frightened him, even. Made him want to put several feet of distance between him and Shindou. Obviously that was impossible since Shindou was as unheeding of personal boundaries as Harria when it came down to it, and Akira wasn't brave enough, or willing, to damage their budding friendship besides.

So he put up with the nudges, the pokes and prods, the unintentional brushing of skin against skin. Tried to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at the not unwanted contact. Tried and failed.

Even now, sitting side by side as they were, Akira was keenly aware of Shindou's proximity. Of his body heat. Of the ever-present electricity between the two of them that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Scowling inwardly at the unwanted direction his thoughts were taking, Akira tried to distract himself by finishing off his soup. There wasn't much left, and he quickly finished the dredges and set the bowl down.

Shindou shifted beside him, and their elbows knocked together. He leaned away with a half-hearted apology then returned to his food.

Akira couldn't keep himself from studying Shindou from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what it was about him that drew his gaze. There had to be _something_ , and he wanted—no, he _needed_ to figure out what it was so that he could put a stop to it. Before it spiraled out of his control and reached a point it could no longer be reined back in.

Of course Shindou took that moment to lick his lips, smearing sauce all over. Without meaning to, Akira's eyes snapped to his mouth, far too interested in its sheen and bow-like shape. Shindou ran his tongue over his upper lip to lap up the excess and Akira's throat went dry _._ The heat that had been steadily growing in his lower belly suddenly surged to his chest, and then higher, spreading across his cheeks. Within seconds the alcove seemed to become unbearably hot. Had Akira not been able to hear the low, mechanical whir of the air conditioner somewhere behind him, he would have thought it had broken.

It took far too long for his renowned self-restraint to reappear, and Akira was quick to seize it. He tore his gaze away, only to stop short.

Harria was staring at him, her eyes a burning green, the light of the lantern at the center of the table holding the shadows at bay. She said nothing, simply watched him with a calculating gaze that rooted him to the spot.

 _I know what you were doing,_ her eyes said.

And then she blinked, and Akira shook off the look and turned away. He looked down at his hands, clenched into fists and knuckles white, and forced them to relax. He tried to force his heart to do the same, but it stubbornly persisted in trying to beat its way out of his chest.

 _You're wrong_ , Akira desperately wanted to tell her. Desperately wanted to deny. _I wasn't doing what you think I was. I wasn't staring at Shindou the same way I stare at you. I don't_ like _him like that. I can't. It's not possible. He's a guy, and besides, I already like you. You're wrong. You aren't often, but in this you are._

Of course he couldn't say that. Not there, where Shindou would hear. He supposed it was just as well, since he doubted Harria would believe him.

Akira didn't even believe himself.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long to update. Heartfelt thanks to everyone who left a comment on the story thus far. You're all amazing and I'm so grateful for your continued encouragement and support.
> 
>  **TERMS:**  
>  **Dan** – refers to pro ranks, 1-dan being the lowest and 9-dan being the highest  
>  **Shodan** – official name for 1-dan  
>  **Insei** – certified _go_ apprentice  
>  **Goban** – _go_ board  
>  **Moku** – game points  
>  **Honinbou/Juudan/Ouza -** professional _go_ titles, won via tournaments


	7. Ponder

**[1]**

Harria wondered what it was about summer evenings that attracted melancholy thoughts. If she had to guess, it was probably the somber transition from day to night. The way the sun melted off the sky and cast a dreamy golden-hue over the world in a final bestowing, right before the empty shadows engulfed the light…it was depressing. The birth and decline of an era in a 24-hour period.

She studied the dwindling skylight, a sea of cobalt with fire hues, as she and Akira crossed another vacant street on their way to his family home. Living in the heart of Tokyo put her at the center of the never ending commotion of city life, but now, strolling along a quiet and empty suburban street, it made her question her choice to live there. Oh, she knew the inactivity of suburban living would grow trite after a time, but perhaps Hikaru could be convinced to move to a similar sect of the city when he was old enough to do so, at least for a while.

And wasn't that a laugh. The boy she'd fallen in love with wasn't even old enough to leave home. She would have been more worried about her choice in partner (because they _were_ partners, even if the romantic aspects of their relationship had yet to be established) if she actually cared. She didn't, or at least not as much as she should have. After all, being nearly a thousand years old didn't exactly leave one many age-appropriate suitors to choose from.

With an inward sigh, Harria turned away from the darkening sky, unwilling to watch the last vestiges of light die out. Though it was certainly nice to be out of Hikaru's company for a while, she rather missed him ( _dangerous thought, what will you do when—)_. At the very least he'd provide her a steady stream of chatter to keep the gloomier thoughts at bay. But he'd been called to help out his mother and wouldn't be catching up with them for a while, so Harria supposed she'd have to make do without.

Besides, it wasn't as if she was alone. Though quiet, Akira was with her, a steady presence at her side. She was distracted from her mental ramblings when a sudden flurry swept past them, rustling the trees and scattering thin, yellowed leaves to the wind. She followed the trajectory of a fluttering petal as it landed in Akira's hair and without thought reached forward and plucked it.

Akira stopped in his tracks, visibly startled, and shot her a questioning look before he noticed the leaf captured between her fingers and pinked. As he lowered his head he missed the wry smile that crept up her face, _because_ _there_ , ladies and gentlemen, was problem number two.

Bad enough that Harria had allowed herself to fall in love with an ordinary human boy who lived one of the most ordinary lives she had ever witnessed, but she truly outdid herself when she started falling for _another one_. It wasn't love—not yet—but she knew it was only a matter of time. Already the boy had managed to carve out a space for himself in the cavity she called a heart. And Harria, for all her immense powers, was incapable of stopping it. Not without forcefully rejecting him and injuring herself in the process.

Some days the absurdity of her situation caught her off guard and left her trapped between wanting to cry and laughing herself sick. It was _incomprehensible_ that she, a being nearly a millennia old, was so powerless in the face of two ordinary human boys _. It didn't make sense_. She couldn't understand why these two, out of the near eight-billion people on that planet, could squeeze through the microscopic cracks of her walls where others double their age and triple their life experience had failed.

What was so special about them, she wondered, burying her hands in her pockets. Even their best attributes were commonplace and could be found in others if she looked long and hard enough. They were good looking, if a bit young, but they were hardly the most attractive she had ever seen. They were passionate, she'd give them that, but most driven people were. Kind, too, but again, that wasn't exactly a rare trait. They weren't even particularly interesting. At least, not when compared to the other sorts of people (and not-people) she had met. For all intents and purposes, Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira were painfully average.

And maybe that was why.

Another lukewarm breeze drifted down the street and ruffled past, and Harria looked down so the leaf particles wouldn't get swept in her eyes. She could feel Akira sending her sideways glances, but ignored them in favor of watching her feet glide over the pavement, toenails painted a variety of colors to match her fingernails. On her right toe gleamed a metallic ring with a glass stone; a present from Hikaru from the summer wish festival. It was a pretty piece of jewelry for all it was cheap, not that the latter mattered. Harria had been given jewelry worth more than some people made in their entire lifetimes, yet few had been given with such honest, such _pure,_ intentions, no metaphorical price tag attached. In Hikaru's case, it had simply been because he wanted to give her something nice. Wanted to _do_ something nice. For her.

And maybe that was why.

No hidden agendas. No masks. No layered meanings or sleight-of-hand words. When it came to those two, Harria didn't have to quarry a rock just to reach what laid within, then fasten the uncovered specimen beneath a microscope to see if it was real. Didn't have to strap on a polygraph to distinguish the lies from the truth. Wasn't constantly looking over her shoulder and guarding her back. For once, actions and words and gestures could be taken at face value. For once, what she saw was what she got.

And that in itself was its own sort of thrill.

Akira and Hikaru were _normal_ , and Harria _needed_ normal after going so long without. Needed it like water after being deprived. Needed it like an antidote to cure a lethal snakebite. Perhaps whatever deity was up there had finally taken pity on her and decided she'd warranted a temporary reprieve from her chaotic existence, then dropped her in this mundane universe to rest.

Perhaps they had realized that she'd been slowly going insane, cracking apart at the edges and unraveling at the center and crumbling in on herself like a castle made of gravel, leaving bits and pieces of herself all over the place that she never could quite get back.

And perhaps they had tossed those two boys in her path, boys who made her _feel_ normal again. Made her remember what it was like to be human without all the messy, destructive parts. All the consequences. Boys who tempered and soothed the _raging-storm-gaping-chasm_ inside of her with their normal smiles, who curbed the ever-present itch for violence with their normal eyes, who filled the fissures of her unsteady sanity with their normal lives, who mended the bleeding sores in her heart with their normal love.

They were unbearably normal, and they made her normal, too.

And maybe that was why.

"Harria?" Akira's voice felt like a pail of ice water and shocked her from the black hole of her mind. "Are you…alright?"

It took her a moment to register the question, then another to work her throat and pull forth words. "Yes, I'm fine. Just daydreaming. Sorry, Akira."

He didn't look like he believed her (she forgot, sometimes, how perceptive even human children could be, who saw and understood more than they let on), but unlike Hikaru he opted to say nothing, body language conveying that he was there whenever she wanted to talk about it but wouldn't push. Wouldn't pull her secrets from her like torn fingernails and teeth no matter how curious he might have been.

And maybe that was why.

She offered him a smile that felt more genuine and looked around. "Is your house nearby?"

"Yes. It's actually just up this pathway—behind that grove of trees up ahead."

"Hm. Then let's pick up the pace, yeah? I'm eager to see what the prodigious Touya Akira's bedroom looks like," she teased, marveling at the crimson tint his face took.

"I—," he stuttered, prompting a laugh from her.

Slipping her hand into his and pulling him along was as easy as breathing. Akira's hand was smaller than Hikaru's was, more slender, the skin over fine bones warm and smooth. His fingers remained idle for a moment, as if they didn't know what to make of the new situation they'd found themselves in, but eventually they curled around Harria's hand and _clung_. And that, at least, was the same as Hikaru. Always clinging, as if they were afraid she'd let go and disappear (and wasn't that a laughable notion, when it was always the other way around). She wondered if there was something about her that seemed ephemeral, then shook the thought away, content to revel in the familiar sensation of rightness that swept through when her boys were at her side letting her soak up their ordinariness, their simple humanity, like a sponge.

Was she really going to do this to herself? Again? Become attached to people who would eventually leave her behind? Open her heart to them, allow them to settle inside, and hope she wasn't torn apart too terribly when they were ripped away by the same fate she was so mercilessly denied?

The same old song and dance. She could innovate the moves, readjust the steps, modify the music note by note, but it would always end the same—her, being dipped low. Her, falling, because her partner had vanished just before the song was over. Her, putting on another record and forcing herself to sway, alone, when all she wanted was to lay down and never get up again.

A sudden pressure over her hand forced her back to the present, and she wasn't surprised in the least to find that she had stopped in the center of the street, as if the heaviness of her thoughts had weighed her down so much she could not move. Akira's eyes were shadowed with worry as they roamed cautiously over her, doubtless trying to figure out what was wrong.

Harria tightened her grip, suddenly feeling as if she was being suspended in midair. Tugged elsewhere. But Akira only clung tighter in a bruising grip, and for the time being it was enough to pull her back, cement her in the present. She focused on the pain, the ache of her knuckles, the pinch of her skin. Let their entwined hands act as an anchor.

"I'm alright," she said firmly before he could ask. It was said as much to herself.

She was always alright, eventually. No matter what she experienced, what befell her, what she lost, what waking nightmares she was forced to live through until they were added to the brimming reservoir she unconsciously called upon at night, she had herself, double-edged sword she might be. She would trudge through as she always did. Survive as she always had. Live, as she only knew how.

But Akira's warm, solid hand was a reminder that, for a while, she didn't have to be alone. For a few fleeting decades, he and Hikaru would be at her side, chasing away the shadows of loneliness, reminding her what normal felt like, what human was. If she let them, they would let her forget. If she let them, it might not hurt so much to remember.

And maybe that was why.

* * *

**[2]**

Unlike Hikaru's western-styled, two-story house, Akira's family home was a quintessential Japanese house that sprawled out over a long stretch of well-groomed grassland. The architecture was stunning, constructed almost entirely of burnt-sienna wood with a modern glass touch. When she stepped into the foyer it was like stepping back in time. For a moment she was a thousand years in the past, walking into the main house of her noble charge's compound. And then Akira coughed, breaking the spell.

As she toed off her sandals and slid into the slippers her host provided, she admired the intricate wooden beams, the polished floors and panels, the elegant calligraphy and landscapes painted onto scrolls that adorned the walls. The house smelled keenly of pine and wormwood with a lingering scent of incense in the background. Distantly, she could just make out the sound of trilling cicadas and the rustling of leaves against rice-paper screens.

"You have a lovely home," Harria told Akira as he led her through the spacious hallways on silent feet.

"Thank you," Akira returned. He looked pleased. "Are you hungry? Would you like to visit the kitchens first?"

"I'd rather see your room first, actually," she said, just to see him blush. He didn't disappoint.

Clearing his throat, he turned his face away and said, "Alright, though my room is rather plain. It does connect to the terrace, though."

"That's perfect, actually." He led her down another hallway and into a wide corridor that housed two rooms on opposite sides, both closed off by sliding doors. "I only got a glimpse of the garden, but it looked nice. Who takes care of it?"

"Both my mother and I," Akira admitted, sounding sheepish. She supposed boys their age didn't consider gardening to be a very manly hobby. "It's…calming. My mother started teaching it to me years ago so she and I could have something in common, since she doesn't have any interest in Go. It just…stuck, I guess. I don't think she ever imagined I'd keep it up at my age."

"Mm. I can understand that. I used to tend a garden when I lived overseas." Other universes, more like. "It wasn't as large as what I estimate yours to be, but it was demanding all the same. And definitely satisfying. Making something grow with your own hands…"

Instead of snuffing the life out of it before it ever got a chance to bloom...

"It's…rewarding," Akira continued for her, sliding one of the doors open and gesturing her inside. "That's one of the primary reasons I find it enjoyable, yes."

Harria shot him a smile and stepped into what she assumed to be Akira's room. It was much larger than she'd expected, and not nearly as bare as had been insinuated. There was no bed, but she suspected tatami mats and such were hidden in one of the two enclosed cupboards she could see. Two tall bookshelves lined one wall, tapering into another multiuse shelf and a wooden L-shaped desk where books, a bustling pen holder, and a slim laptop lay on top. Tucked in a corner was the outline of what looked to be a folding screen, and next to it a simple tall lamp. Beside it was a sweeping canvas that covered nearly the entirety of the adjoining wall.

Akira crossed the room and switched the lamp on. It clicked twice, and at once the room was filled with a soft yellow light, chasing away the shadows and painting a more vivid picture. Which, speaking of. Harria walked over and studied the canvas, which portrayed a man and a child playing Go in a room not unlike the one she now stood, opening up into a lush garden. The artist had used only watercolors and ink, and the result was a vibrant scenescape of creatively blended colors, free from the trappings of solid outlines.

"That's my father and I," Akira said, moving to stand next to her. "It was a gift from my mother's older brother. He painted this shortly before he passed away. I was five at the time, I think."

Harria tilted her head and nodded, seeing the similarities now that it was pointed out. In her defense, she'd only ever known Akira as his fifteen year old self and the Meijin as, well, old.

"You were a beautiful child," she murmured, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Smirking to herself, she added, "More beautiful now, though."

Akira turned an alarming shade of red and spun on his heel, showing her his back. Harria had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. It never failed to amuse her how a few choice words could turn such a poised boy into an awkward, stuttering mess. Hikaru was cute in the way puppies and kittens were, but Akira was just _cheek-pinching adorable_. Like baby snakes. Not very cute at first glance, but that changed once you got to know them.

Simply adorable.

The moment was interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and Akira looked almost relieved to have an excuse to flee, which he did without sparing her a backwards glance. Chuckling, Harria walked over to his desk and started studying the books that were strewn there. Most were Go related—kifu, tsumego playbooks, study pamphlets, copies of _Weekly Go—_ but quite a few were of the academia variety, reminding her that unlike Hikaru, Akira had gone on to attend high school. She wondered if it was of his own volition, or at his parent's insistence. The prospect of not having to go to high school had certainly been a bonus point to Hikaru—second only to getting a paycheck.

Harria was in the process of flipping through a physics textbook when she heard the heavy thumps of footsteps drawing close. She smiled, easily making out the gait. Not soon after Akira walked through the open door with Hikaru in tow, who, sighting her, promptly closed the distance between them and pulled her into a firm hug.

"You'd think we didn't just see each other a few hours ago," she teased, pulling her arm free to ruffle his hair. "You got here pretty fast. Your mom drove you?"

"Yeah. It was the least she could do after dragging me around the market with her. As if she doesn't already know what I like," he grumbled, pulling away and looking around the room. "This place is nice. I feel like I'm in a samurai compound or something. The only thing missing is some armor and maybe a sword or two on the wall and it'd be right out of the movies."

Akira snorted from across the room as he slid the door closed. "You have quite the imagination, Shindou. No wonder your Go is so innovative. Would the two of you like something to drink, or would you prefer to start a game?"

"Game, game, game," Hikaru chanted, tossing his bag into a corner and sliding into a sitting position by the upright goban. "There's something I want to try. We can eat and stuff later." He looked between the two and said, "I already played against Harria this morning, so how about Touya? You game?"

"Sure. That is, if Harria doesn't mind?" At Harria's headshake he bounded across the room and quickly sat on the opposite side of the goban, choosing to sit cross-legged instead of sliding into seiza.

"You mind if I use your laptop while you wait, Akira?" she asked.

Akira's hands paused over the go-ke and he shook his head. "Go ahead. The password is _cicada,_ no caps _._ You have to access the wi-fi manually, so just click the grey button on the taskbar when you start it up."

" _Cicada?_ " Hikaru asked with a snort. "What kind of password is that?"

He was ignored. "Thanks, Kira-chan. I promise not to dig through your browser history for porn," she said blithely, fighting not to show her amusement as the boy spluttered with horror. When it looked like he was about to keel over from asphyxiation she took pity on him and added, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it isn't anything I haven't seen on Hikaru's computer."

The other boy promptly stopped laughing and choked.

Innocuous daily mischief accomplished, Harria turned her back on the mortified pair and dropped into the computer chair. She slid the laptop towards her, flipped the lid open, and typed in the six-letter passcode. The windows insignia faded away and she wasn't surprised in the least to see a background picture of a goban. With a low chuckle she turned on the wi-fi and booted up _Chrome._

She had an unfinished game with a certain Juudan on WorldIGoNet to finish.

* * *

**[3]**

Fervid. That would be the word Harria used to describe the way Akira and Hikaru interacted. The chemistry that crackled between the two was almost palpable at times, charged like the air before a lightning storm. It amused her to no end to see them circling around each other like wolves who were too proud to admit to being interested.

And they were definitely interested.

Harria wondered if she had once been that terrible at concealing her emotions. Gods, she hoped not. Being that open, that _revealing_ , should be a illegal. What need was there for the mindreading ability Hikaru accused her of having when their bodies were an open barrel thoughts and emotions could easily be plucked from? Even now they were ill-equipped to hide that which they desperately did not want to show. It was in the way their gazes locked for just a few seconds too long, and they shyly peeked at the other when they thought it was safe, and the way they leaned towards each other, as if the other were a magnet they couldn't resist gravitating towards.

It certainly didn't help that they kept casting guilty glances at her every so often, as if to apologize for what their wandering eyes unconsciously sought. Harria found it sweet that even while they raged against the vortex of their mutual attraction they could still take a moment to stop and think of her. Send thoughts her way even when they had little to spare.

She flipped the laptop closed and set in on the side, bored from aimless browsing, and scooted closer to the goban to watch the game commence. They were already reaching yose, and from what she could tell Hikaru was winning. That hadn't been the case five minutes ago, but that was them, she supposed. Always turning the tides just when it should be nigh-impossible to reverse things. She scoured the board, scrutinizing the variegated patterns and converting them into a sequence she could map. It didn't take long to find the proverbial loose thread and follow it.

When something in her head clicked and the game suddenly came together, becoming whole, she let out an inaudible chuckle. It was an incredible game, to be sure. It was also blatant, unapologetic foreplay. Amused, she observed the discrepancy between their typical hands. Hikaru was being more evasive than usual, toeing where normally he'd boldly tread, poking where he'd otherwise push. Akira was not exempted. From the beginning his moves were nothing short of aggressive, trailing Hikaru's stones and forcing confrontation, and reminding her of school boys who tugged at the pigtails of girls they liked. Hikaru, of course, was the girl peeking out from behind a tree, lofting pebbles when her crush's back was turned and then pretending ignorance.

It was _hilarious_.

The game came to an end in another fifteen minutes when there were no more moves to play. Taking the komi into account, Hikaru, who'd played black, won by two moku, and flaunted it with a self-satisfied grin.

"That was fun," he said, stretching. His shirt rose, exposing his midriff, and Harria wasn't the only one who looked at the strip of golden skin. However, she _was_ the only one who didn't look away when Hikaru brought his arms down, meeting her playful leer with one of his own.

"Like what you see?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and prompting a laugh from her and a strangled gargle from the boy who was staring intently at the board.

"And if I said yes?" she asked.

"I'd compliment you for having such good taste."

"I did always love a man with a pudge," she agreed, laughing when Hikaru squawked and poked at his flat, if a bit soft, stomach.

"Are you calling me fat?" he asked with exaggerated affront.

"I'd love you even if you were…which will probably happen sooner rather than later if you keep eating all that ramen then sitting on your butt all day," she pointed out. She added offhandedly, "Though you'd look cute chubby. Like a gerbil."

Akira snorted beside them. Hikaru, for his part, looked as if he didn't know whether to be pleased that Harria would still love him regardless or offended by her essentially calling him a lazy glutton. He eventually settled for something in between and simply rolled his eyes.

"Yo, Touya, you want to discuss the game? Or play another?"

"Let's discuss it," Akira said after a moment of contemplation. He glanced at Harria. "Unless you want a match?"

"No, that's fine. Let's start by talking about Hikaru's move at 12-4."

Akira nodded and edged towards the goban. "I'm curious as well, Shindou. Why didn't you place a stone on the square below it? Wouldn't that have fortified that border cluster better?"

Grinning, Hikaru opened his mouth to explain, but Harria quickly cut in before he could say a word, determined to remedy something that had been bothering her for a while. "Why do you continue to use each other's surnames? We're all friends, aren't we?"

Hikaru's mouth snapped shut with an audible _click_ and he reeled back with surprise. Akira, too, was staring at her as if she'd just spoken another language. They glanced at each other and hastily looked away, and Harria rolled her eyes at their obvious discomfort.

"Well?" she prompted, placing her hands on her thighs and leaning forward. "We've been hanging out for months now, and I'd like to think that we're all friends. Neither of you use my surname, so it's kind of weird that you still use each other's, right?" When they continued to look uncomfortable she added dryly, "Of course you don't have to, but it's kind of awkward the way it is. Besides, it's just a first name. Not like I'm asking you two to get married."

Cue flustered spluttering. They really were so predictable.

"It would be weird," Hikaru was the first to say.

She quirked her brow at him. "Oh, really?"

Hikaru squirmed under her unimpressed look. "Well, yeah. Me and Touya…it's not like with you. I mean, you…" he trailed off and scratched his head. "It's just different, is all."

"That makes no sense whatsoever," she told him, to which Shindou just shrugged uncertainly and frowned.

"What about you, Akira? You against it, too?" she asked, turning to the boy who'd remained silent thus far.

"I didn't say I was _against_ it…" Shindou muttered under his breath.

Akira stared at the floor as he tucked loose strands of his hair behind his ear. Several moments passed before he eventually said, so softly Harria almost missed it, "I wouldn't mind…that is, if Shindou isn't adverse to it…I don't see it as a problem…"

The eloquent Touya Akira, reduced to incoherent mumbling. It probably said a lot about the type of person Harria was that she found his awkwardness so endearing.

"…I said I wasn't _against_ it, didn't I?" Shindou said snippily. His cheeks were flushed. "If you don't care then I don't care, either."

Akira finally looked up, and his embarrassment was visible. "I'll refer to you as H-Hikaru, then," he said, stumbling over his name and looking away again.

Harria restrained the urge to smack her hand over her face. Honestly, she didn't know whether she wanted to bang their heads together or draw them into a group hug. Possibly both, with a hair ruffle for good measure.

"…That's weird," Hikaru grumbled.

Exasperated, Harria threw the first thing she could reach at him. It turned out to be the tsumego playbook. Whoops. Still, it didn't stop her from laughing when Hikaru turned to her with a scowl as he rubbed his head. The baby; the book was barely half an inch thick.

"What was that for?" he demanded, glaring between her and the dangerous projectile.

"For putting your foot in it. Now pass that back, I was in the middle of a problem."

"Serves you right, woman! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to throw things at people?"

"No," she said simply, leaning forward to snatch the book away. Her hand shot out quickly and she had it back in her possession before Hikaru even realized she'd moved. She ignored his comment about ' _violent ninja-aliens with bad throwing habits'_ and flipped to the page she'd been on. "By the way, you haven't responded to Akira yet."

That sobered the atmosphere.

Hikaru was fiddling with a loose fray on his shirt when he finally said, "Fine, whatever. I'll call you Akira, too." He went pink when he said his name, and Harria smiled inwardly.

Her boys were so cute. Dense, but cute.

Akira diverted the discussion back to the game, to the boys' relief, and Harria was content to watch them bicker over the goban like an old married couple. More than once they slipped into using each other's surname, but they'd quickly correct themselves when Harria cleared her throat. She would be lying if she said her tone was entirely threat-free.

After a while, when they reached an impasse about a particular move and couldn't come to an agreement over which response would be better, they dragged Harria into the fray with expressions that demanded she side with _them_ , not the other. Naturally, Harria came up with an alternate option which exasperated them both and prolonged the argument.

It was the oddest thing, but as she watched them interact, she could almost see something great beginning to form—a blank canvas, now adorned with rough sketch lines and erratic splashes of color. The painting was still in its initial stage, more outline than art, and though none of the shapes were easily recognizable, the same voice in the back of her head that always steered her right told her that it would one day display a masterpiece.

That _they_ would be a masterpiece. If they gave each other a chance to turn a possibility into reality.

Harria considered everything as she watched. Watched her boys snipe at each other one second, then shyly smile and avert their eyes the next. Watched them gaze at her with looks of adoration which turned into awe when she returned it twofold. Watched them strain against the pull of an attraction they didn't want to understand because they had no one to tell them it was okay. Watched them tentatively come together like a constellation created entirely of newborn stars.

Harria smiled ruefully to herself as Akira cleared the board so she and him could play a game.

She'd made her decision long ago, it seemed. Her heart had simply been waiting for her head to get the memo. Her relief at finally making a decision was as much a tangible weight off her shoulders as it was newfound disquiet in her gut. But she was tired of being indecisive, of vacillating between her judgment and her heart, so she ignored her unease and focused her attentions on what _was_ within her power.

The next stage, which required planning.

Because Touya Akira and Shindou Hikaru were so deep in denial they were practically drowning in it, and naturally they needed Harria to drag them to the shore.

She smiled suddenly at the mental image and Akira and Hikaru, rather astutely, leaned away from her warily. At that, her smile morphed into a grin that ached across her face.

Dwelling had never been her forte, but making plans, and acting on them…now that was something she could do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uneventful but necessary chapter. I hope ya'll enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!
> 
> BTW, the Juudan Harria was referring to was Ogata Seiji, in case anyone forgot he owned that title. :)
> 
>   __ **TERMS:**  
>  Goban - Go board  
> Go-ke - bowl that holds Go stones  
> Kifu - game records  
> Komi - compensation points, since black has the advantage of going first  
> Yose - end game  
> Tsumego - life and death problems  
> Seiza - traditional sitting position  
> Juudan/Meijin - professional Go titles, won via tournaments


End file.
